by Kaylea Cross
“Nothing.”
“Jaliya. Why are you upset? Tell me.”
Even after all the years she’d spent proving her independence, that stern tone had the desired effect. “I’m… It’s just been a tough couple of days, that’s all.”
He was silent a moment. “Are you all right?”
“I’m okay.” Mostly. “We…lost some people yesterday. Last night. I saw it happen live.”
“I’m sorry. That’s terrible.”
She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “It was tough.” She bit her lip, bracing for the words she dreaded but knew were coming. This is why I never wanted you to take this job. You should be here, with a job that isn’t dangerous.
“Is that why you called?”
“Well, I got your card today. Thanks, I needed it.”
He sighed. “Your confidence is shaken because of last night. And now you’re blaming yourself for what happened.”
She swallowed against the sting of more tears. In spite of their differences, he knew her well. “Yes.”
“And wondering whether you should be there at all.”
Here it comes.
“Well, let me tell you something. That agency is lucky to have you. You’re smart and hard-working, and you’re loyal. You would never jeopardize people’s lives, I know that without question, and therefore I know that you did everything in your power to prevent the tragedy that occurred.”
Jaliya listened in stunned silence, hardly able to believe her ears. Was this really her father? Or an imposter that simply sounded like him?
“Whatever happened, it was not your fault, and you can’t let this setback stand in your way. You’re stronger than that. Regroup, take a deep breath and get back in there. Put one foot in front of the other and don’t you dare give into doubt.”
Her mouth was hanging open now. She had no idea how to respond, but this was the last thing she’d ever expected to hear from her father. Other than the three little words he couldn’t utter.
“You’ve got what—twelve more weeks left in this posting? Finish it off, give it everything you have, and when you come home, you can think about what else you might want to do instead.”
Aaaand, there it was. Her real father was back. She closed her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut and prayed for patience.
“There are plenty of other agencies or companies who would fight to have you on their payroll. You could find one that valued you that let you stay closer to home, and then you would have time to have a social life. You might even meet the right kind of man to settle down with.”
Oh, God. “Dad. Stop.”
“Well, you might. There’s more to life than work, Jaliya. Take it from me, the reformed workaholic. You’re young, and beautiful and talented. I don’t want you to let life pass you by and regret it later. Life is too short for regrets like that.”
He was right about the regret part. “I’ve met someone,” she said, mostly to change the subject.
A startled pause answered her. “Is he Muslim?”
She laughed softly at the hope in his voice. “Ah, Dad, I love you.”
He grunted. “I’ll take that as a no.”
No reciprocal “I love you too” from him, of course. “I’m not telling you anything else about him, except that he was a complete surprise.” And I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do about him. “Actually, I think you’d like him. A lot.”
Another grunt. “So. You feel better now?”
“Strangely, yes. Thank you.” She paused, wistfulness twining inside her. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
“Good to hear yours. I’m just sorry you’re so upset.”
“I’ll be okay. Like you said, I’m strong.”
“Like father, like daughter, eh?”
She smiled, her heart already lighter than it had been five minutes ago. After this call she was going straight back to the war room. She still had a lot to offer her team. And they were going to nail The Jackal. “Yes. Exactly like that.”
****
Yes. Finally.
A wide grin stretched across Zaid’s face as he shone his high-powered flashlight at the steel door he’d found hidden in a pit dug into the floor of one of the village’s houses.
There’d been a brief firefight when they’d entered the village, but the resistance had been small compared to what they’d been bracing for. So far they’d captured several trucks and prisoners, and the search of the village had led to this.
“Check this out,” he called over his shoulder.
Prentiss and Colebrook walked over to peer down at him from above. “Now that looks promising,” Prentiss said, and got on his radio. “Khan’s found something you gotta see,” he said to Hamilton.
The team leader and the rest of the guys all entered the tiny house and crowded around the pit as Zaid leaned back to give them a better look. Hamilton whistled. “Awesome.”
Yeah, it kinda was. They’d been searching various villages throughout the last couple of weeks with little to show for it. At the pre-mission briefing earlier Jaliya and her team had told them about a hidden tunnel system located in the vicinity.
One of the SEALs appeared in the open doorway behind Zaid’s teammates. “You boys need a hand in here?”
“Nope,” Hamilton answered without looking at him. “Let your LT know we may have found the tunnel entrance, though.” He nodded at Freeman. “Do your thing.”
The former SEAL hopped down next to Zaid and took a closer look at the door.
“Don’t see any wires,” Zaid said. “Probably didn’t have time to rig anything before they took off.” But some of the drug smugglers might be lying in wait behind the door.
“Yeah, seems like it,” Freeman murmured, angling his head as he studied the seam around the door. After taking a good look, he withdrew his sidearm and looked back at the others. “Nothing on the outside.”
Hamilton nodded. “You take point. Khan, Colebrook and Prentiss will back you up. The rest of us will cover you from out here.”
Colebrook and Prentiss hopped down into the five-foot deep pit and took up their positions, rifles pointed at the door as Freeman reached for the handle. In the silence the metallic squeak of the handle turning seemed loud.
Zaid stood to the left of the door, weight balanced on the balls of his feet, sighting down the barrel of his weapon. Freeman was at his most vulnerable right now, backlit by the early dawn light filtering through the dwelling’s open door.
Freeman eased the door open a few inches, his body carefully angled to the side to minimize damage from a possible IED and make himself as small a target as possible should anyone be waiting to shoot from inside. When nothing happened, he eased it open farther with his boot. Zaid peered into the darkness ahead of him with the tac light on the end of his weapon illuminating what appeared to be a tunnel about four feet high and three feet wide.
Moving quietly, Zaid stepped over to Freeman and placed a hand on his teammate’s shoulder while Colebrook and Prentiss moved in behind him. A solid hand landed on Zaid’s shoulder and squeezed, and Zaid did the same to Freeman’s, alerting their point man that everyone was in position and ready to go.
Freeman paused for another moment, then stepped through the doorway. Zaid followed, getting his first good look inside. It appeared as though the tunnel walls had been hacked out by hand with shovels and pickaxes, rather than blasted. More labor intensive, but a hell of a lot quieter, and it made sense that whoever had built it would want to keep as low a noise profile as possible.
It stretched about twenty yards in front of them before curving to the right. Freeman stopped a few yards from it and hugged the wall.
The distant scrambling of feet echoed ahead of them, out of sight. Men, trying to escape.
Zaid would bet they’d been guarding something. Or someone.
His pulse rate kicked up as he followed Freeman around the bend in the tunnel, while Hamilton quietly alerted the SEALs over the radio to ap
prise them of the situation. Could The Jackal be waiting up ahead?
“Copy that. Stay in your location. We’ll take over from there,” the SEAL said.
“Roger,” Hamilton replied.
Freeman stopped abruptly and Zaid looked past him to zero in on what lay ahead of them. A wave of surprise burst over him. Ahead of them in what appeared to be a surprisingly large room carved out of the rock, was the mother lode.
“Holy hell,” Zaid muttered, stepping closer.
Bricks of what had to be hashish sat wrapped in black plastic and stacked floor to ceiling. A few million dollars’ worth, at least. There was also a big pile of weapons, including a few RPGs.
“Someone’s gonna be pissed that this didn’t make it across the border,” Colebrook said from behind him.
“Makes me feel all warm inside just to imagine it,” Zaid said.
He couldn’t wait for Jaliya to find out. Her confidence had been badly shaken by the SF team op the other night. If anything could boost it, this would.
The SEALs joined them several minutes later, glanced at the hidden cache and then carried on down the tunnel to try and capture their prey. Zaid and his teammates took a closer look at what the smugglers had left behind, then catalogued everything before hauling it all out of the tunnel.
When the area was secure an hour later and everyone was accounted for, the mood got even more festive when the SEALs returned with prisoners—one of them on their high value list.
Standing before the pile of dope and weapons, Hamilton grinned at Zaid and held out the sat phone. “You do the honors and call it in. I got a few things to wrap up here anyway.”
Zaid took it with a smile and immediately dialed Jaliya’s cell number. As far as he knew she wasn’t scheduled to be overseeing this op directly, and she deserved to be contacted first.
“Rabani,” she answered.
“Hey, it’s me.”
A startled pause followed. “Zaid?”
God, he loved the sound of her voice. Could still remember the taste of her on his tongue and the bite of her nails in his scalp as he made her come. He couldn’t wait to see her again. “Yeah.”
“Where are you?”
“At the target village.”
“What are you doing, calling me?” She sounded flustered.
“Wanted you to be the first to hear the good news.”
“What good news?”
“You were right. We found the tunnels.”
“You did?” He could hear the smile in her voice, the joy, and wished like hell he’d been able to see her reaction in person.
“Yep. Along with a big-ass cache of weapons and hash. We even rounded up a few prisoners, including an HVT.”
She gasped. “Who?”
“One of The Jackal’s lieutenants.” He gave the man’s name.
“You got him?” She sounded elated. “Did you question him?”
“Tried. He’s not talking right now, but the chatter around here indicates that The Jackal was here as of a few hours ago. The SEALs are working on finding his trail right now.”
“Oh, that’s bloody brilliant,” she breathed in her cute British accent.
“Yeah.” His girl had done good. “I wanted you to hear it from me.”
“Well thank you for that, I appreciate it. So, how are you?”
“I’m great.”
“No close calls out there, I hope?”
He smiled. “Nah. I’m safe and sound. We all are.”
She let out a relieved breath. “Good. Will you be coming back to Bagram?”
“No. Back to the FOB we launched from, in case we get a lead on The Jackal.”
“Ah. Of course.”
He was damned pleased to hear the disappointment in her voice. It meant she missed him. Hopefully as much as he missed her. He wanted to spend more time with her, get to know her better and prove this was way more than physical for him. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
“Right. They’re uh, moving us back to Kabul tomorrow sometime. Not sure when.”
Disappointment flooded him. They wouldn’t get to see each other, even when his team got back to Bagram. “You’ll let me know where?”
“Yes.”
Hamilton was motioning for his phone back. “I gotta go,” Zaid said, wishing they could have talked longer. Or at least about something more than work. “I’ll text you later if I can.”
“Okay. And, Zaid?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. I’m chuffed that you called me yourself.”
Chuffed was good. He was damn proud of her. “You did good, honey. You did real good.” Hamilton was giving him the steely-eyed stare now, hands on hips. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Zaid ended the call and handed the phone to his team leader. As he headed back to where the others were burning the hash, he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.
****
Fahim jumped out of the dilapidated vehicle that had driven him to the main highway through the darkness and immediately crossed to the one waiting for him at the shoulder. He was furious…and scared.
“The shipment’s been seized,” he said to the new driver as he slammed the passenger door shut. “I need to get back to Kabul as fast as possible.”
He ran a hand through his hair and fought to calm his jangled nerves. That had been way too damn close. He’d barely escaped the village before the Americans had inserted.
If not for the tunnel system, he would have been trapped, and either dead or captured by now. Thankfully he’d received enough warning to make it through the tunnel and out the exit at the end, outside the village walls. He’d made it to the valley on foot, using the terrain to try and screen his movements from any satellites or drones they might have monitoring the area.
Whoever the DEA’s informant was, he was linked to someone in Fahim’s inner circle. It was the only explanation for how the taskforce had gotten a lock on the shipment’s location at some point late last night.
Who was it? Who the hell was it? He thought he’d taken care of everyone the DEA had been using for information on him. All of them winding up dead by one method or another should have been a strong enough deterrent to prevent this situation.
Pulling a burner phone from his pocket once he was within range of a cell tower, he called his only remaining lieutenant. “They’ve seized the shipment and almost got me with it.”
A moment of startled silence followed. “Where are you now?”
“On my way back to Kabul.” If the military wasn’t already following him, he might have a chance to make it back. He pulled in a calming breath before continuing. “We have to find out who their informant is. He’s too close, and knows too much.”
“I just got off the phone with someone claiming to know who it is. I’m not sure how reliable he is though.”
“Follow up on it and report back to me immediately. I want to take action, send a message once we find out who it is.” He would show no mercy to whoever had sold him out to the DEA. He paid dearly to ensure the villagers stayed loyal to him and kept his secrets.
“Of course.”
“Leave everything else and focus on this. I want to know who it is by tonight.”
“Yes, sir.”
He ended the call and put the phone away, glancing in the side mirror to see the lightening eastern sky. Another clear, cold day, only a scattering of clouds overhead. Perfect conditions for tracking him with a device.
He thought of his wife and son, imagined them curled up together in Beena’s bed. His fingers itched to pull the phone back out so he could call home, but the nights were always hardest and he didn’t want to disturb them or rob them of the precious amount of sleep they were able to get.
It took another ninety minutes for them to reach the outskirts of Kabul.
“Take me to my office,” he said, reaching into the backseat to withdraw a fresh uniform from a bag left there. After changing, it took just another ten minutes until they reached
the building. Since it was barely six in the morning, the heavily secured compound was quiet, with only a few guards on duty.
His assistant wasn’t in yet, so he strode straight to his office and opened the door. He stopped short at the sight of his wife sitting in front of his desk. “What are you doing here? Where’s Beena?” he croaked out.
Her dark eyes looked bruised underneath, her skin pale and stretched thin over her bones, the weight of exhaustion making her look a decade older. “Where have you been?” she whispered, her expression full of reproach.
His heart thudded against his ribs. “We were conducting an operation.” He’d told her that before leaving Kabul last night.
“I called you and called you, but you didn’t answer,” she choked out, and his heart constricted with sheer terror.
“What’s happened? Is it Beena?”
The reproach bled out of her gaze, only to be replaced by a haunted look. “He’s at the hospital.”
His heart seemed to stop beating. No…
“My mother is with him. I…I had to get away, just for a little while.” She let out a ragged sigh. “He had a really bad night. The worst night yet. And there was nothing I could do for him except sit and hold his hand while the ambulance rushed him to the hospital—” She pressed a hand to her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut.
Fahim rushed over and went onto one knee before her, grasping her other hand, his fingers locking around her cold skin. “Is he…” He couldn’t finish the thought aloud, his heart about to implode.
She shook her head, lowered her hand from her face, but the sheen of tears there sliced at his guts. “He’s still with us, thanks be to God. But I fear not for much longer.”
He closed his eyes and exhaled in relief. “God is good.”
His wife remained in the chair, her posture rigid. “You keep promising me that you’ve found a solution.”
“I have found one.”
“Then why haven’t you done anything yet? What are you waiting for?” she cried, the tears finally spilling over.
Fahim reached for her and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight, his cheek pressed to the top of her hijab. He could smell the light floral fragrance of her shampoo as he stroked a hand over her back.