The other Enigma agents reminded her from time to time they heard him laugh for the first time the day they met. She never got tired of them telling her how stunned they were at the discovery he had a sense of humor or that he tolerated insubordination from a civilian like Tessa Scott.
Part of her loved him in spite of never acting upon it. Before God, friends, and family, she’d promised to forever belong to Robert Scott. They were happy. Three children made romance a distant memory, but something better settled in because they were a family.
Once Captain Hunter kicked in the door of her perfect life, he changed how she saw the world.
Tessa felt the helicopter descend. It hovered, tilted then sat down.
“Welcome,” an Afghan man greeted them as they exited. “Welcome,” he repeated. He lowered his head to both women as the soldier hopped down, armed and dangerous. He initiated the usual safety scan while cradling his weapon like an infant.
“I’m Undersecretary Finley.” Bonnie shoved her hand at the man who wore his wrinkles like a man in his fifties, but in this harsh environment the number could have been an overestimation. The title didn’t appear to impress the man with missing teeth, loose clothing, and pale eyes, one clouded with a possible cataract. His gray beard, streaked with the remnants of pale brown, added to the mystery of his age. He kept his hand at his side and Bonnie pulled hers back.
“This is my assistant.” Bonnie glanced at Tessa who contained her surprise at the title. The less these people knew about her the better. “Are we far from the orphanage?” she asked in Pashto.
“No. No. This way. This way.” The Afghan pointed toward the village not more than a hundred yards away. A few of the villagers ventured out of their homes and talked among themselves while the smaller ones pointed at the helicopter and made roaring sounds.
As they approached, the soldier spoke into his mouthpiece, requesting an update on any Taliban activity in the area. He continued to search for trouble. Tessa felt uneasy. Her steps slowed. The sight of little girls leaving a one-story building carrying bundles the size of a folded tablecloth, their young faces flushed and frightened, helped her refocus. They hurried toward them, waving. Did they feel they were about to be liberated? Tessa’s heart swelled as she laughed at the simplicity of it all. Little girls wanting a better life. What a concept. So grateful for a chance to learn. Likely afraid, but ready to embrace the unknown because something deep inside them knew life could be better.
“Hello,” Tessa greeted them in Pashto as a worker ran up alongside them. She held the hands of two teen girls who might be around her own son’s age. “Are you ready to take a ride?” Tessa made an effort to sound excited, although she wondered if the girls would be throwing up by the time they arrived in Kabul. They giggled with excitement.
The aid worker extended her hand as the village man stood back and folded his hands in front of him like he’d just delivered a UPS package. “They’re ready, all right.” She laughed. “I don’t think anyone slept last night.”
Bonnie made a visual count and realized there were two more girls than the ambassador had originally said. “We can’t take everyone this time, but the pilot will soon return for the others. Are you going, too?” A backpack hung on the woman’s shoulder. Her prematurely gray hair indicated this place may have robbed her of some youthfulness. Her skin matched the color, creases leading out from the corners of her eyes and at the edges of a thin-lipped mouth.
“Yes. This is part of the problem here. There’s no money and I’m needed somewhere else in the world.” She picked up the three-year-old. “This is Arzo.” She was wrapped tight in her clothes, like a cocoon. Even her head covering revealed little about the hair underneath. “She is the sweetest girl in the world.” Arzo hugged the woman’s neck, offering a shy peek at Tessa, and pointed to her eyes then her own.
“We need to go, ma’am.” The soldier took the aid worker by the arm and tugged toward the bird. “You go with the older girls. The younger six can go on the next one.”
Bonnie frowned. “I planned to go this time, soldier.”
He continued to survey the surrounding hillsides. “Better someone who is known among them travel with marriage-aged girls, ma’am. This woman is known around here. You are not. We don’t want them or the village to get the idea we’re taking them for other reasons.”
The aid worker agreed. “I’m afraid he’s right. These people don’t always trust soldiers around their daughters. It makes no difference they have little use for these orphans. They will be glad not to have to feed them. Another reason to get them out.”
A girl of about fourteen stepped forward. “Take Amena, since she is older than me. I will stay behind. My sister will be very frightened if I leave without her.” She took the hand of a little girl who couldn’t have been more than seven.
“This is Shirin with her little sister Pamir. She will be excellent help with the others.” The aid worker moved toward the helicopter.
“Your English is very good, Shirin,” Tessa complimented.
The teen beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.”
With one last hug to a few of the girls the aid worker turned toward the orphanage. “Feel free to rest in our humble house.”
“But—” Bonnie interrupted.
“We’ll be back for you ASAP, ma’am.” The soldier herded the first passengers forward.
Bonnie shaded her face as the children scrambled onto the Black Hawk. She turned to their escort. “Tell the pilot to hurry back. This place gives me the creeps.”
The soldier turned away to speak in his mic.
Tessa did her best to speak to the children as she led them down the rise of the hill into the village. Bonnie made a few unflattering remarks about her dressing like a local for the trip.
“It might be a good idea to stay indoors until the helicopter returns since you chose to dress like an ad for the side of a bus.” Tessa laced her words with sweetness so not to alarm the girls. Bonnie grimaced at the truth and pushed into the middle of the group of girls until they reached the orphanage. The strategy proved to be too little too late.
Chapter 8
T he confidence of having a soldier with them helped Tessa shake off the feeling of dread. The people milling around didn’t appear intimidated by a military presence. She couldn’t remember a time in history when soldiers, warlords, and drug traffickers didn’t wander Afghanistan. This part of the world would continue to be an open wound, festering from too much intervention by self-serving nations who didn’t have a clue what they were doing. The two women ushered the children inside the place they’d called home, and the soldier backed in after them, straight-faced.
“Everything all right, corporal?” Tessa walked up beside him to peek around his body filling the doorway.
“Not sure, ma’am.”
Bonnie rushed over. “What does that mean? I thought this was a safe place?”
The corporal continued to scan the outside area. “Yes, ma’am. It is.”
“So what’s the problem, soldier? Speak up. It’s not too late to call the helicopter back.” Bonnie breathed faster and her hysterical voice tipped Tessa off if things went sideways she need not count on her for support.
“No problem.” He stepped back, bumping into Tessa who sidestepped like a scared rabbit. He shut the door then locked it before moving to the window.
He rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. Tessa observed how he kept touching his weapon as if to make sure he had control. When he pulled back the burlap curtain hanging on a wire, Tessa came up beside him. “Have you been here before?”
He muttered, “Yes.”
Bonnie demanded information, but stopped when Tessa held out her hand then shook her head.
The children huddled together, their little faces thoughtful as they watched the new adults in their life. They lacked the mischief of American children. Her heart ached for them to be naughty, loud, or even squirm. Heads bowed, they peered up through loose str
ands of various shades of brown hair.
“Who will show me around this place?” Tessa clapped her hands together and regretted her sudden movement when several of the girls flinched. She squatted in front of two she guessed were between seven and nine years of age and spoke to them in Pashto. “Little girls with big dreams.” She offered her biggest smile to put them at ease. “Can I see where you learn?” The girls cocked their heads. Tessa hoped she hadn’t asked them if a goat climbed up their nose. “Books.”
All the girls reacted to the word and grasped her hands and clothing, pulling her into another room. Shirin followed like a mother hen, letting the younger ones show the American woman their home and school.
Shirin whispered directions a couple of times to help them show with pride their box of broken pencils or a stack of tablets made from used copy paper. When Tessa picked one up, she realized they were rebound scrap paper from the States, from church bulletins, discarded stock reports, and even travel vouchers from a resort in Branson, Missouri. The front side would be blank with the back covered in whatever information destined for the recycling bin. Tessa promised when she got back to the States every one of these girls would have proper tablets, pencils, and crayons.
Shirin’s little sister brought her several pieces of cardboard. A round one reminded her of a delivered pizza. Two others were like the boxes Tessa used to wrap Christmas presents. Shirin frowned as her hands took the cardboard to return it to a three-legged table.
“Please. May I see?” Tessa reached for them as her English spilled forth. Shirin handed her the cardboard then bowed her head. Amazed at the sketches, Tessa sucked in her breath. “Shirin, these are beautiful.”
They were pictures of the girls at the school. One even had the aid worker singing. Tessa’s emotions threatened to spill over as she observed the tiniest details in the picture. Even the compacted dirt floor appeared lifelike. A mouse hid under the table as the children worked. A breeze lifting the mesh curtain giving the piece of art a photographic appearance.
Tessa couldn’t resist giving the girl a hug. “You’re an artist, Shirin. I’m going to make sure you are never without art supplies.” She conveyed the promise in choppy Pashto.
The girl grinned from ear to ear as the children clapped for her. The little sister hugged the legs of the fourteen-year-old in a gesture of worship. “My sister is also talented, ma’am.”
Tessa kneeled down next to the shy seven-year-old. “What is her talent?” The little urchin hid her face in Shirin’s clothing.
“Sing for her, Pamir.”
“Please,” Tessa continued in Pashto.
In a small voice, Pamir lifted her voice in some native song. The voices of angels could not be as sweet as the little girl. Soon the others sang along. When tears trickled down Tessa’s cheeks, a hush fell over them. In that moment she fell hopelessly in love with the children. Nothing would ever be the same.
“We are sorry, ma’am. We did not know our songs would hurt.” Shirin shivered and gathered the girls close to her side.
Tessa laughed as she hugged each little soul before her. “You have given me a gift with your voices. Thank you so much.” She was so overcome she forgot to speak in their language.
At a quick translation by Shirin, the girls giggled and reached to touch Tessa. They continued to proudly show their school followed by where they slept at night on woven mats. How fifteen children could be educated and survive in such a confined area amazed Tessa. The tour soon ended back in the first room where a rickety card table, two chairs, and a woodstove made up the furnishings. A shelf holding a few dishes and pans completed the kitchen. Tessa thought it gave new meaning to rustic as she peeked into a basket holding some rags, a bar of soap, and a first aid kit. The new bar of soap still had the wrapping on it, and Tessa wondered what agency or military patrol had donated it.
Shirin insisted the girls sit down in the corner to avoid getting in the way as they waited for the returning helicopter. She joined them after making sure their bundles rested against the front wall of the building to retrieve on their way out.
Bonnie paced with an occasional exasperated sigh then a round of hugging her arms followed by checking her watch. Several times she asked the soldier if the helicopter should be returning by now. After the fourth time, he turned his impatient glare on her and she scooted back into the middle of the room.
“He can’t make it go faster. They’ll be here soon.” Tessa sighed with exasperation.
“Soon should have been an hour ago,” she snapped. “This place smells like urine. I feel sick.”
Tessa glanced over at the little girls waiting without complaint then beamed their way. “Shirin, is there any food in here? I bet the others are getting hungry.”
She shook her head. “We ran out two days ago.”
Tessa sucked in her breath. “You haven’t eaten in two days?”
“Some of the people in the village let our teacher have bread yesterday. We are used to going without, ma’am. But the baby…” She pointed to Arzo whose hollow gaze went to Tessa. “I worry she will not make it if she does not get food soon.”
The soldier frowned then reached into his pocket and pulled out some plastic bags of granola. He tossed them to Tessa. “Here. My mom sent it to me. Homemade. Code for fattening.” He grinned at the children before turning back to the window.
Tessa sat down Indian style in the corner and tore open a bag of cereal. With a wink at Arzo, she motioned for her to sit in her lap. She let the three-year-old dig into the bag with a dirty hand. The other two got passed among the others. They appeared to savor each morsel as they ate in silence. Shirin offered Tessa the last few bites but she refused. Before she suggested Shirin eat the rest, Bonnie lifted the bag and sniffed.
She watched the girls staring up at her then handed it back. “Never mind. I might catch something if I put this in my mouth.”
“Be nice,” Tessa warned, worried Shirin might comprehend the insult. The girl lowered her head.
“It’s not like they understand me, Melanie. I will make sure the ambassador makes it up to me when we get back. I should have gone back when I had a chance. This is ridiculous.”
The one thing that continues to be ridiculous is your attitude, thought Tessa.
The soldier shifted his weight. A nervous kind of tension filled the room as he dropped the curtain to peek through with one eye. His serious demeanor made Tessa think something was amiss.
Tessa stood up and dusted off her bottom. Her left eye had taken on a nervous twitch as she stared at the soldier.
“Corporal, is there a problem?”
“Not sure.” He frowned back at the women then the children. “It’s afternoon. Where is everyone? Do people normally disappear this time of day?” The three adults turned to Shirin for an answer.
Shirin shook her head. “Not unless there is trouble.”
Unfolding her arms, Bonnie’s voice turned cold. “What kind of trouble?”
“Taliban,” the girl said. “Sometimes mountain tribesmen. Kyrgyz.” Her voice sounded so grown up. Perhaps the girl might be trying to alleviate concerns like a mother would do for her children in a difficult time. “It is good. No Taliban for long time because they afraid of Kyrgyz. Soldiers come bring supplies for our village khan so people will not starve. But they all hide. They very scared of Americans.”
“And the Kyrgyz?” Tessa hated to admit she could be intrigued at a time like this.
“They have horses. Sometimes fight Taliban. Warn to stay away from the gray-haired lady. They think the masked Kyrgyz demon.”
“This gets better and better,” Bonnie choked out.
“The kahn of our village has wife from the Kyrgyz tribe. She Sunni Muslim. Make Taliban angry she here.”
“When were the Taliban here?” The soldier took a slow step toward the children who huddled together.
Shirin held up five fingers then five more. “This many days. They not like us, I think. Said we bad for
learning.” She bowed her head. “Said my pictures were bad. I should be punished. They not like the gray-haired lady, but leave her safe because the Kyrgyz say they come back and kill Taliban if harm comes to her. The masked man is very brave.”
The soldier turned and radioed the chopper as Tessa stepped up next to him. All she could hear was static then a few words before it faded. “Where’s the chopper, Corporal?” Tessa whispered as Bonnie’s pacing turned frantic.
“Not sure.” He reached in his jacket and withdrew a pistol. “A mutual friend told me you knew how to use one of these.” Tessa examined the semi-automatic then slipped it under her robes. “There’s a full clip.” Next he pulled out a switchblade. “Do you know what this is?”
The dark menacing friend of Captain Hunter carried a similar knife. He brandished the sharp weapon like King Author’s sword on many occasions. The Serbian interrogator, Nicholas Zoric, became Enigma’s go-to intimidator. She’d experienced his threats firsthand during the day they met. His ability to lurk in shadows undetected and eliminate the enemy became legendary among protection agencies in D.C. He answered to no one except Captain Chase Hunter. Some compared the middle-aged Serb to a bloodthirsty vampire who took too much delight in his work. For some reason he’d taken it upon himself to be Tessa’s demonic protector.
“Who gave you this?” Tessa ran her fingers along the outside, wondering how many men had felt its penetration between ribcage and heart.
“I didn’t get his name.” His grin hid a lie. “Maybe Dracula. Said he knew you. I was one of the Rangers who took you back to the embassy. Forgot to give it to you since we were on high alert. When I heard I’d be coming along today, I remembered to bring it.”
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