“And your sister Kinah?” Emma asked. “Where is she in all of this?”
“Right now my sister is working with leaders of the first ten villages along the border where we will set up the schools. She’s taking a roster of each child, his or her age, and how many children will be in each school.” Khalid said fondly, “My sister is a tempest. She never sits still. Kinah’s a fierce warrior for peace and the education of our people. She’s a fighter who has vision, strength, intelligence and courage.”
“She’d have to have all those things to do what she’s doing,” Emma agreed grimly, looking around in awe at the room. “Her life is always on the line out there. I’m sure you know that.”
Darkness came to Khalid’s normally sparkling blue eyes.
“Too aware. I have hired two of the best security guards I can find, but I still worry about her. She refuses to wear a flak jacket, which concerns me. We have ancient enemies out there.” His voice lowered. “I know Malik is hunting us, Emma. He’s just waiting to spring a trap to capture either or both of us. I worry it will happen when Kinah is alone and unable to defend herself….”
“And yet, you have said Asad Malik has promised your death.” Emma looked around. “Where are your bodyguards?”
Khalid shrugged. “Now, you sound like my sister, Captain. She is always on me to have them.”
“Thanks for the tour, Khalid.” Emma sounded less military and slightly breathless. That irritated her a whole lot. Emma felt an unexpected yearning for him that was like a flowing stream that turned into a wild river within her. Khalid was too good to be true. Brody had never been a humanitarian and that’s where they were different. In Emma’s eyes and heart, Khalid was a true hero, fighting to lift his people out of abject poverty. He had the money, the position and resources to make it happen. There was a generosity so deep within him that it made Emma stand in awe of Khalid. How many men had she met that had all these qualities? Not many. All the more reason to remain at arm’s length from this fierce Afghan warrior.
“You’re welcome, Captain Cantrell. Now,” he said, glancing down at his watch, “I believe Rasa will have our dinner ready for us.”
Emma walked toward the door, dreading the meal. Hopefully, she asked, “Are you going to split us up? I’ll eat in the women’s quarter and you in the men’s?” In the Muslim world, men and women ate separately.
Khalid laughed and walked quickly to open the door before she got to it. “No. You are American and I honor the fact that Americans sit as families together. We’ll eat in the dining room.” He saw a wariness in her eyes and added, “Does this meet with your approval?” No longer could he afford to assume anything about this woman.
Emma kept her sedate demeanor. “This is not military protocol, Captain Shaheen. To tell you the truth, I’m a little uncomfortable with it all.” There, the truth was out. Emma noticed the genuine concern in his face and how much her words had hurt him. She knew how important it was for an Afghan to be a host. “But I’ll deal with it.”
“Yes?” Khalid said hopefully. “For I have no wish to offend you again.”
“I’m not offended.” Emma hoped she’d smoothed the situation over enough so they could have a quick dinner and she could make a run for her suite.
Asad Malik arrived in Kabul at 9:00 p.m. He and his men had met with a local Taliban sheik at a village outside Camp Bravo. He’d loaned them two pickup trucks so that they could speed their way to Kabul. The stars were bright and beautiful above him as they pulled up at the bottom of the hill where the Shaheen family home sat.
They got out of their pickups and quietly assembled near Malik. He put on a special pair of night goggles stolen from an American soldier during a heated battle. He liked these goggles because, suddenly, night became day. Everything was green and grainy, but he could see. This was the first time he’d ever been this close to the Shaheen estate. As he used binoculars and began a survey of the home, he realized it was going to be very hard to attack.
Ameen, his second in command, came up to him. “My lord, is there a way we can assault the home?”
Malik growled under his breath, “There’s heavy brush all around the hill. At the top, there is a ten-foot wall. And on top of the wall is concertina barbed wire.” Dropping the binoculars, he handed them to the young man, who wore a worn brown turban on his head. “Stay here. I’m going to look around. With these goggles, I’ll be able to see much more.” He picked up his rifle and melted into the night, leaving his men standing quietly by the trucks.
Emma walked down the hallway and back into the kitchen. A short, black-haired woman in a long dark blue gown stood at the oven. She wore oven mitts as she pulled out the lamb and placed it on the counter. When Emma saw the housekeeper’s face she bit down on her lower lip. The whole left side was terribly twisted and scarred, as if severely burned. What had happened to her? Emma had no time to think about this because Khalid cupped his hand beneath her right elbow and guided her into a huge dining room with its crystal chandelier hanging over a long, rectangular mahogany table.
Once out of earshot, Emma whispered, “Captain Shaheen, what happened to Rasa? Her face is horribly scarred.”
Khalid pulled out the chair at the end of the table for her. He dropped his voice. “Rasa lived in a border village. She was fighting to get a school started for girls. Rasa was well-educated and a fighter for women’s rights.”
Emma sat down and looked up to see darkness in Khalid’s eyes. He took a chair on her right and sat down. “Malik, our enemy, heard of Rasa’s efforts and he brought his thugs into the village. They found her and poured acid all over her face and told her to stop thinking about educating girls. She was told that women were more stupid than the donkeys that hauled the loads of firewood into the village.”
Emma was horrified. “My God, I’m so sorry for Rasa.”
He picked up her gold linen napkin and handed it to her. “Rasa lost the sight in her left eye, too. When my father, who was trying to bring education to the villages so long ago, found Rasa, he brought her here, to Kabul. He paid for all of her medical needs. At that time, Rasa was only eighteen years old. She was so grateful that she begged my father to allow her to be the permanent housekeeper for our family. She wanted to repay my father for all his generosity toward her. Rasa remains blind in that eye to this day, and there is nothing that could be done for her. But her face is much improved over what it was at first.”
“This isn’t right, Khalid. Malik is evil.”
Opening his napkin, Khalid nodded. “He’s a murderer. One day, I will meet him on the plain of combat.”
Startled by his words, Emma realized she was seeing the warrior side of Khalid for the first time. He was a combatant now, his eyes narrowed and dark, his full, expressive mouth thinned with tension. Emma felt the chill of his rage. The light-hearted Khalid had disappeared. Now she understood a little more why this man had been chosen by the U.S. Army for Apache combat helicopter training. This aviator was a consummate hunter, like the legendary and mystical snow leopards who lived in the Kush mountains.
Taking a shaky breath, Emma asked under her breath, “Does Rasa know English?”
“No.” Khalid gave her a pleading look. “When Rasa comes to serve us, please do not look into her eyes. She never meets your gaze. Her eyes are always downcast and she speaks so softly that at times, I have a hard time hearing her.”
Heart aching for Rasa, Emma felt how the woman’s spirit had been broken by Malik’s attack upon her. “Of course,” she promised. “I don’t wish to make her uncomfortable, Captain.”
Khalid nodded and looked toward the arched entrance that led to the kitchen. “Rasa is painfully aware that no man would ever take her as his bride. She hides beneath a burka so that no one can see her damaged face when she shops in Kabul for us. I have tried over the years to convince her she is not ugly, that she has a beautiful heart and soul. And that any man would overlook her physical face for the unscarred beauty of her heart,�
� he sighed, “but she will not believe me. I have brought potential suitors here for her, but she shuns them.” Shrugging, Khalid said, “I’ve given up at this point.”
“Is Rasa happy here?” Emma asked, touched by Khalid’s obvious grief over Rasa’s suffering. He seemed to hold back unknown emotions.
“Very happy. She has adopted us as her family.” Khalid saw Rasa coming from the kitchen with a tray of steaming food. “We’ll speak later,” he said in a quiet tone.
“Of course,” Emma said.
Malik crept silently along the road leading to the estate. Crouching, his AK-47 in his right hand, the butt resting on the earth, he eyed two turbaned guards at a ten-foot wrought-iron black gate. They weren’t like most security guards. No, these two bearded men were alert and looking around. Malik knew he was well-hidden by the brush on the dirt road.
After waiting five more minutes, Malik crept into the brush. It was thick but negotiable. He was tall and wiry and able to step softly and not raise alarm. Sitting down, he observed the gate head-on. The guards never left it. He could hear them talking in the distance. They carried AK-47s with two bandoliers of ammo crisscrossing their powerful chests. Judging from how they carried themselves, these were Afghan warriors and not the drivel from Kabul who couldn’t fight a fly.
Slowly turning his head, Malik decided to continue to move slowly and quietly around the hill to see if there was another entrance to the estate.
“And so,” Khalid said, pointing to the papers spread out on the table after dinner, “this is the full concept of our efforts.”
It was nearly 10:00 p.m. as Emma pored over all the information about Operation Book Worm. “This is impressive.” She glanced at Khalid, who sat to her right. “How long did it take you two to figure this out?”
“Four years,” Khalid murmured. Emma’s hair was dry now and curled in crimson around her freckled face. Did she know how beautiful and utterly natural a woman she was? Khalid itched to understand her on a more personal level. He knew she was single because he had looked at her personnel jacket. She had been suggested as the right person to partner with him on this effort. And she was.
It was on the tip of Khalid’s tongue to ask if she had a significant other. Just because Emma was single didn’t mean she was available. And why was he even thinking in that direction? He could be killed at any moment by Asad Malik. Unconsciously, Khalid touched his chest where his heart resided. Was he finished grieving for his fiancée? Was he returning to life as a man with yearnings and needs? Was his wounded heart truly healed and now calling for him to find another woman who could fulfill his dreams? But that could never happen. Khalid would never put another woman in the sites of Malik.
Emma saw the odd look in Khalid’s eyes. What was he thinking? She nervously gathered up the papers and handed them over to him. “It’s late,” she said firmly. “I know we’re getting up early tomorrow. Kinah will be here at 0800? Right?”
“Yes, my sister is flying in tomorrow morning. She’ll have the information we require. Then, the widows will be driven over here and, based upon Kinah’s assessments, we’ll get busy filling orders for each village and boxing them up. Then, you and I will trailer them to the CH-47 assigned to us at Bagram Air Force Base.”
Emma rose. “Sounds good, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” All evening she had felt as if Khalid wanted a warm, intimate conversation with her. Oh, nothing overt. Subtle, just as Brody had been. Emma rose from the table and smoothed her slacks.
Khalid quickly stood with her. There was confusion in Emma’s green gaze. Why? There was a wariness in her expression as if he had somehow, once more, breached officer-to-officer protocol. Should he apologize? Khalid had treated her with courtesy and kept all conversations about the mission, nothing personal, during dinner. He didn’t want to chase Emma off this operation by unmilitary behavior toward her.
Malik hissed beneath his breath. There was no entrance other than the one gate to Shaheen’s estate. Making his way back to his men who were patiently crouched and holding their weapons, he took off the goggles. Ameen approached, a hopeful look on his darkened face.
“I will not throw away our lives on trying to get into that castle,” he told his men. “I swear blood vengeance on Khalid Shaheen, but this will not be the place to settle that score.” Lifting his hand, he gestured sharply to the trucks. “Mount up. We’re going back to the base camp. We will watch Shaheen’s movements from there and figure out what he’s up to now.”
By the time Emma got up and dressed in a fresh flight uniform, Kinah and Khalid were already in the dining room having breakfast. Emma had slept hard. She realized how safe she felt in this villa compared to the base camp where mortars would sometimes be lobbed at them by the Taliban. Rubbing her eyes, she smiled a welcome as Kinah rose to greet her.
“Ah, you are the red-haired pilot Khalid spoke of,” Kinah said, getting up, her hand extended to meet Emma. “I’m Kinah Shaheen. Khalid’s little sister.” She grinned mischievously and glanced back at her brother who sat at the table.
Emma grasped Kinah’s long, graceful hand. She had nearly waist-length black hair shot through with red strands, green eyes that Emma was sure came from her Irish mother and full lips. Kinah was dressed in a traditional black Muslim gown.
“Hi, Kinah. I’m Captain Emma Cantrell. Nice to meet you.”
Kinah stepped back and placed her hands on her hips. “Khalid, shame on you! You did not tell me how lovely this American woman pilot is!” She gave Emma a wink.
Emma decided Kinah was every bit the trickster that Khalid was. It must be that wicked Irish sense of humor in their DNA.
Dressed in his flight suit, Khalid made sounds of protest. “Beloved sister, Captain Cantrell is here as an envoy from the States. Why would I speak of her obvious beauty?” For once, he wished outgoing Kinah would not embarrass Emma. She might bolt and refuse to work on the mission.
As she walked to the table, Emma noticed that a third breakfast setting was there for her. They had not yet eaten and apparently were waiting for her to arrive; such were their manners. “I don’t know about you, but I’d love some chai. I need to wake up,” she told them, sitting down. Kinah sat at the head of the table this time, her brother on her right and Emma on the left.
“Indeed,” Kinah said with a smile, “I believe Rasa is fixing three cups of chai as we speak.” She reached over and gripped Emma’s lower arm. “We are truly grateful for your presence, Captain Cantrell.”
“Call me Emma.” There was such warmth in the woman that Emma found herself climbing out of her military decorum.
“Wonderful,” Kinah said. “I don’t like standing on protocol, either. Please call me Kinah. When we’re out in the field together, you must consider yourself a part of our family.” She gestured to herself and her brother.
“Well…” Khalid choked, giving his vivacious sister a pained look. “We’re in the military, Kinah. I can’t just call her by her first name out there.”
“Pooh!” Kinah waggled her finger into Khalid’s face. “We must appear bonded and friends, brother. After all, it was my idea to bring in an American woman pilot.”
Emma saw Rasa come, head down, eyes trained on the floor, bearing a tray with three steaming cups of chai. She could smell the cinnamon and nutmeg fragrance wafting upward in the steam. Kinah’s words caught her attention.
“Oh?”
Kinah took her chai and warmly thanked Rasa, who murmured back in Pashto. “I believe,” Kinah said, resting her elbows on the table, the chai in her hands, “that little girls out in these villages need to see two strong women from two different cultures.” Her eyes sparkled and she said in a whisper, “How else are my little girls to know they can dream as big as their hearts? They see me as an educator. They see you as a woman in the military who can fly a helicopter, who is an officer and who is fully capable. You see,” she said, sipping her chai delicately, “little girls in the villages are often told they can’t dream of
being anything. They see you and me, Emma. They will get it very quickly that they can dream! They can set a goal through learning to read and write.”
Moved by Kinah’s passion, Emma said, “I hadn’t thought of it in that way, but you’re right. Leading by example.”
Nodding, Kinah said, “Exactly. I expect you to give a little talk at some point, after we have the schools set up. I would like you to share how you became a pilot. What made you yearn to fly? What dreams did you have as a little girl that fueled your desire to fly a helicopter? You see,” Kinah said, smiling softly, “little girls have wings of imagination. You can instill them to imagine whatever it is they desire to become.”
Emma smiled a little and sipped her chai. Clearly, Kinah was a force of nature. Compared to Khalid, she was a ball of energy, hardly able to sit still, her hands always gesturing and her eyes fierce with passion. Khalid paled in comparison to his dynamo sister. The fact that Khalid was the rudder to Kinah’s ship of dreams made Emma respect him even more. She could see the doting, loving look on Khalid’s face for his beloved sister. She wondered if Khalid took after his Sufi father and Kinah her Irish mother. Clearly, the fire belonged to Kinah.
Emma could understand why Khalid adored his sister. Kinah, although in traditional Afghan dress, was far more a feminist that Emma ever had been. “I wonder if you picked up on your Irish mother’s DNA? You’re a missionary of a different sort,” Emma said. “Is it not a religious calling as much as a humanitarian effort that drives you?”
“Precisely,” Kinah said, nodding her head, her dark curls moving across her back. “I may only be small but I am a giant who stands over most others because my heart is connected to my dreams.” She gave Khalid a warm, loving look. “And my Sufi brother knows well that when our hearts are aligned with our passions, we can accomplish miracles.”
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