by K. D. Lamb
“She will be an unfortunate casualty to the events. Basically, collateral damage. I know. It’s terrible and certainly wasn’t intended. But what’s done is done. Let’s move on!”
Fields just wanted the whole thing to end. He was sick of the politics and the endless lies and machinations. He would do anything, play any part, if it got him off the damn carrier and home to his family and Seattle. He toned down his petulance and quietly asked, “May I see Glenn Carson now?”
“Absolutely! You may go with First Officer Baum.”
Consulting his watch, he continued, “The press conference will take place in about an hour.”
Paul Fields rose and followed the first officer to the door. “Mr. Fields?”
The Orion CEO turned and looked at the commander. “Do I have your word that your knowledge of the facts as relayed to the world will be broad and brief?”
Fields looked as if he was going to say something but didn’t. “Yes, Commander. You have my word.” Under his breath, he muttered to himself, “… for now.”
With that, the two men made their way to the carrier’s on-board hospital. Fields was vastly relieved when he saw a little color in Carson’s cheeks. Carson was even partially conscious and squeezed his hand. He couldn’t speak, but Fields could see that he was getting excellent medical care and would most certainly survive.
Fields looked over at the two doctors discussing Carson’s care, and saw that one was the Afghanistan doctor, Maysah Siddra. He was struck at how happy and content she seemed. She must have really wanted out of Afghanistan.
He stayed with Carson for thirty minutes and then was ushered back to his room for a brief snack and to prepare for the press conference. As he munched absent-mindedly on his cheese, crackers, and grapes, he vowed to do everything he could to find out what happened to Kendall—after he got back to Seattle. But for today’s show, he would be a gracious guest of Israel and, as requested, feign no knowledge of the details of the kidnapping or rescue other than the obvious.
As for Afghanistan, Fields hoped the country exploded in a rage at the mismanagement and brutality of the military advisors and ruling party at the top. He would personally do everything he could to foment that rage. The ravaged country deserved an honorable and just leader who loved his country and treated its people and land with dignity and respect. It was a sad and courageous country that had seen too many wars since ancient times.
Fields pledged to put Prophecy to work as soon as he returned to the States. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His face was very sore after shaving for the first time in weeks. He was provided with a slightly large but new pair of jeans and a starched oxford shirt.
He was not the same man who had gotten on that ill-fated flight from Washington, DC. No one would be after what he had been through. He could still hear the horrible screams from the prisoners in the courtyard beyond his room. He was going to do something about it. Somehow, the Orion day-to-day business no longer mattered. He might even give up his CEO title.
A knock sounded at his door, and his escort appeared. Fields sighed and followed him out the door.
He felt like he was about to “walk the plank.” His footsteps were heavy in the narrow corridor. As he stepped into the well-lit, plush executive conference room, he had a moment of fright at the number of Israeli officers that had been summoned to witness the event. The video equipment was ready and standing by for hookup to the remote satellite feed. Paul Fields, CEO of Orion Premier Net Service, stood next to Commander Tzuk Reichenfeld at the podium, with his subordinates flanking him and Fields on the right and left. The countdown began, and the screens around the room activated.
Fields wanted to turn and run.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
KENDALL’S EYES WERE SQUEEZED SHUT, and she was pressed into the back of the hidden closet space as far as she could go. When the door slid open, her heart skipped a beat. Rashid let out a whoop as Poya’s grinning face appeared before them. There were cheers all around, and Rashid and Kendall scrambled out of their dark refuge.
Poya gave them each a big hug. Rashid knelt down and put his hands on Poya’s shoulders. “Boy, am I glad to see you! I was so worried you were caught in the fire.”
Poya nodded excitedly and said, “Did you think I was the babalu?”
Rashid laughed and ruffled his hair. “No, I didn’t think you were the bogeyman. But how did you get away? How did you survive the fire? What happened?”
Jangi insisted that they return to the evening meal. The table was reset to include the three of them. Poya was obviously starving. He dug right in, and for once, was not shy about it. He tried to speak and eat at the same time, and finally Rashid insisted that he finish eating before he told his story. Finally, the meal was over and the dishes cleaned up.
Poya was feeling right at home and began tussling with Jangi’s boys. Rashid could hardly contain himself. He wanted the details of Poya’s escape so badly. “Poya, come over here and sit next to me. Tell us what happened at the palace!”
The boy sobered dramatically as his mind took him back to the last evening. His eyes got wide as he looked at Rashid. “I was on the other side of the stable when a bright light burst in the sky. It came down with a boom right on top of the grand house. There were flames everywhere.”
Rashid grabbed his arm and began to examine him. “Were you hurt?”
Poya laughed and scrambled out of his grasp. “No, Rashid. I was very brave. There was much commotion. I put the rest of my stuff in the car and took the back road—like you said—that came out on the main road a ways down from the palace. It was so dark, and I kept the headlights off, so no one saw me. They weren’t paying attention anyway. There were little fires everywhere.
Kendall was astonished at his story. “But you are only twelve. And you can drive?”
The men and boys gave a collective laugh. Jangi, feeling comfortable around the strangers, burst into the conversation with, “But Miss Kendall, all boys learn to drive after ten … especially around here. They must help their fathers on the farm. They learn to drive the tractor first.”
She gave a nod of understanding but remarked reprovingly, “But so far, Poya. You drove for hours!”
He nodded, very pleased with himself. “Yes, I did, Khala-Auntie Kendall. Rashid told me to leave as soon as you all left. I was hanging out by the back door of the kitchen and heard the gunshots and yelling. Then you all left, and I ran through the dark gardens back to the stable, where my car was pretty much ready to go.”
Jangi’s eldest son was very impressed with Poya’s independence and sense of self at such a young age. He was eager to hear more. “What did you do then? Did you come straight here?”
Poya laughed, engagingly. “No. I went to the house of the palace’s butcher in Kabul, Yuhannis. He supplies all the meat for the palace. I am often the one to go pick it up. I know him well. Yuhannis and his family are friends of mine. I eat there all the time.”
Rashid winked at Kendall and smiled knowingly. It dawned on her that Rashid had purposely brought about the relationship and then stoked it, so Poya would always have a “friend” to run to. He was watching her, and added softly, “That’s also why I made sure he had a car that was sturdy and reliable, so he could run errands.”
Now Jangi’s youngest son—who was near Poya’s age—was impatient to hear more. “Keep going. When did you leave Kabul?”
Poya scratched his head, remembering the details. He appeared wise beyond his years. “Rashid told me not to start my trip until first light. The butcher made sure I had a full tank of gas, and then I headed straight here. I didn’t stop once.”
Kendall wanted every detail and looked at Rashid. “You must have arranged for Poya to come here before we even knew we weren’t being rescued?”
He nodded. “Yes, I did. I needed to make sure Poya would be looked after by good people.” He smiled at Jangi and his family. “This is the best Afghanistan family I could think of. I knew he wou
ld be safe here and that he would not be mistreated.”
“But how did he know how to get here?”
“I drew him a map awhile back and explained exactly where to go. I also gave him Jangi’s name.”
“But weren’t you afraid he would be stopped and searched or taken into custody and interrogated?”
“Yes,” he replied solemnly. “I was terrified of that.” But his face broke into a huge, relieved grin that made his eyes crinkle. “God kept him safe. I am thankful.”
But there was one question he had to ask. He was very serious when he sighed and began, “Poya, what happened to Taheem? Did he get away?”
The young boy shook his head. “I don’t know, Rashid. He was in the kitchen when I went into the garden.”
Poya couldn’t bear any more sorrow. He looked at Jangi, and with much respect stated, “Kaka, I have brought you a gift. It’s in the car.”
Rashid was glad that Poya referred to Jangi as Kaka, or Uncle. The young man was clearly accepting the elder as the respected member of the family. In his young life, Poya had met many a man who was not worthy of being called Kaka. They all trooped out to Poya’s car, and Kendall was surprised to see that it was a white old Toyota Corolla.
Before long, Kendall would realize that half the cars on the Afghanistan highways were Toyota Corollas, many with over two hundred thousand miles on the engine. Used Corollas were shipped from Canada, Germany, the U.S., and Japan to Dubai where they were then delivered to Afghanistan. During the war with Russia in the 1980s, people didn’t want to be seen driving cars from the West. They first drove the Russian Volgas. Japanese cars were considered an acceptable alternative. To this day, the Toyota brand still dominates the automobile industry.
Jangi’s eldest son was envious and lovingly stroked the dusty hood. “It’s nice, Poya … and white too!” White was considered the choice of color because it showed the least dirt. One paid more money in Afghanistan to purchase a white car.
There was a squawk from inside the car. One of Jangi’s sons said, “What’s that?”
Rashid rolled his eyes. He knew exactly what that was. He pointed to Poya and sighed, “Go ahead, show them!”
Poya quickly opened the back door and out popped Ahmad’s peafowl. Jangi’s children were delighted and clapped their hands. Jangi was a bit taken aback but quickly recovered. He instructed his children to give the peafowl some cracked corn. They were obviously hungry and followed the boys around the farmyard, as bits of corn were offered. A pen of sorts was hastily constructed adjacent to the barn, where they would be safe from predators.
Jangi thanked Poya and remarked, “This is excellent Poya. They will keep the insects down and the snakes away.” Poya warned the children that they would need to pick up any bits of paper or the birds would surely eat it and possibly die.
Kendall gave Poya’s shoulders a squeeze. “You are so smart, Poya. How do you know these things?”
Poya nodded towards Rashid. “Rashid’s taught me everything I know. He’s my best friend.”
Kendall looked at Rashid with a new light. This man was truly a marvel. There was not much he couldn’t do. He was so resourceful. Tough, yet gentle. A man of mystery and depth. But she quickly sobered when she thought of their predicament. Her mind also suddenly flashed back to Jeremy. She shook her head in wonderment at how long it had been since she saw him. It seemed like months ago when he was part of her life. She hadn’t thought of him in days. He seemed pretty one-dimensional now that she had met Rashid. In her estimation, Jeremy didn’t even rise to the level of Poya or Jangi. He wasn’t worthy of any of the Afghan men and boys who stood before her.
Suddenly the front door opened and Jangi’s wife yelled for them to come and watch something on the television. They all hurried into the house and settled before the rickety television set. There was the face of General Omar raging before the cameras. Kendall could not tell what was being said, but she saw their pictures flashed in front of the camera several times. Finally, the speech ended, and the men lapsed into a long conversation in Dari. Every once in a while, the boys would look over at her. They seemed alternatively sad and frightened for her. She was impatient to know what was being said but remained silent.
It was time for bed, and Jangi led Rashid, Kendall, and Poya to the barn. First, they moved Poya’s car to the outside of the barn and covered it with a tarp. They made up Poya’s bed next to theirs, and Jangi said goodnight. He patted Rashid’s arm in a comforting way. He then turned, closed the big barn door behind him, and retired for the night.
The moon was full, and a surprising amount of light shone in through the side window above their heads. Poya had had a long day and quickly fell asleep. His gentle snores were soothing and childlike. He looked happy and content. Rashid was pleased he was here. He would find loving people with whom to make a life. Still, Rashid would worry about him, hoping he was thriving and growing into manhood with the right mentors. Rashid recalled the anger that had consumed him as a young man in the early days of living with the Shazeb family. He fervently hoped and prayed that Poya would never know such anger and rage. He made a silent promise that he would consider all of the options when it was time to leave Jangi the next day.
Rashid turned his attention to Kendall, who was quietly staring at him in the moonlit night, waiting to hear a recap of General Omar’s speech. Even though they’d only been up half a day, Rashid was weary and would have liked to drop his head on the soft blankets and sleep, but he knew that Kendall was expecting an explanation of their circumstances and what would happen on the morrow. He gave a general account of Omar’s rantings. Omar was blaming Rashid and unnamed persons, possibly Americans, for the bombings and deaths of the Shazebs. He was calling it a coup that had been planned for some time.
Kendall’s face was shown as one of the so-called co-conspirators. It looked like an enlarged picture from her driver’s license. The image was fuzzy and not at all clear. It was not a flattering picture. The expression on her face was serious and downright fierce. She thought she even looked like a criminal type.
Kendall reached out and pulled Rashid’s arm. “What does all this mean?”
Rashid frowned but decided to be truthful. “It’s not good, Kendall. We were made to look really bad. Anyone who loved the president is going to be gunning for us. It will be imperative that we keep a low profile.” He stared at her lovely chestnut colored hair.
“What is it?”
He sighed. “It’s your hair! You stand out as a foreigner. Everything about you stands out. We can’t very well dress you like a man, because it just wouldn’t work.”
“Can we contact someone now to come and rescue us?”
He shook his head violently. “Absolutely not! Once we activated the SAT phone, our presence could be detected by radar. Omar’s troops would find us.”
Kendall’s eyes were wide and she felt helpless. “What are we going to do?”
He saw the concern in her eyes and relaxed, saying soothingly, “Don’t worry, Kendall. We’ll be fine. We just need to be careful, stay off the main roads, hunker down, and keep to ourselves for a few days.”
“Why can’t we just stay here? It seems safe.”
“Because Jangi has already put his family and farm at risk. He could lose everything and end up in jail, all just for helping us. I will not stay any longer than is necessary.” He looked at Kendall and stated emphatically, “We leave tomorrow, Kendall. Get some sleep.”
She lay down but found sleep elusive. Her thoughts alternated from wondering how Glenn Carson was to where her mother’s body was to finally how she could ever go back to a nine-to-five job after all that she had seen and been through. She finally fell into an exhausted sleep.
Sometime after midnight, Kendall began moaning and uttering the name, “Rashid, Rashid,” over and over. She awoke to find Rashid gently shaking her and cradling her in his arms. He stroked and lightly kissed her hair, saying, “Shh, you’re having a bad dream, Kendall.�
�
She was trembling and looked distraught. Their dire situation and unknown future had gotten the best of her. “I’m so afraid, Rashid.” He quickly grabbed his makeshift bed and pulled it over next to hers. He lay down beside her and she rested her head on his shoulders. They both fell into a sound, peaceful sleep, their bodies pressed warmly against each other.
Rashid and Kendall woke up to the sound of Poya laughing and pointing out the window. Jangi’s boys were feeding the peafowl, and there was much bedlam as they chased the birds around.
After the morning meal, they discussed their plans with Jangi. Poya was outside with the other children, helping with the daily chores. The adults watched the Afghanistan National Television station for the morning news. They were stunned to find out that General Omar was appealing to the Afghan citizens for information on the whereabouts of Rashid Sharif and Kendall Radcliffe. A reward of 10,000 Afghani, or just under $200, was offered to enlist the public’s help. Alternatively, anyone found to be harboring the fugitives would be publicly beheaded. That warning extended to their immediate family as well. Jangi gasped at that news.
While Omar was not certain that Kendall was the second person in the vehicle seen speeding away from the bombed AIDC building, he was fairly certain it had to be her. Omar had seen them together every day for the past few weeks, and they seemed thick as thieves, in his eyes. His jealousy at Rashid’s closeness with the Shazeb family and how he had tricked him the night the Shazebs were all killed, drove him crazy with rage. His single-minded purpose to track down and punish Rashid in the most heinous way was evident to Rashid. The only bright side was that nothing was said of Poya’s going missing.
The message to the Afghanistan public was that military troops were being sent to all the major cities, and a house-to-house search was to be conducted. Roadblocks were to be set up, with all vehicles inspected. When Rashid and Jangi saw that Bamiyan was one of the first cities to receive troops, they looked at each other knowingly.