by Duane Evans
“Then how do they know any of this?” Sahar asked.
“Habibi told them.”
“So they went to Dhaka and talked to Habibi?”
“They didn’t have to,” Advani said. “Habibi had already told the IB about Tarek before he went to Dhaka.”
“Habibi was a spy for the Intelligence Bureau?” Sahar asked, a look of incredulity on her face.
“Not exactly,” Advani said. “When Habibi was in New Delhi, he began to worry that he and Tarek would not be able to stop the terrorists alone. At one point, he tried to convince Tarek that they should approach the authorities and tell them a plot was afoot, but Tarek argued that without details about the plot it would be pointless, and the authorities would almost certainly jail both of them. When he couldn’t change Tarek’s mind, the morning we were preparing to fly to Calcutta, he secretly went to the IB himself. From that point on, they were aware that there was a plot of some kind, and they began to monitor Tarek.”
“Father, how do you know this?”
“Habibi told me.”
“You are in touch with Habibi?” Sahar asked.
Advani nodded. “Yes, I’ve spoken with him on the phone a couple of times in the last two weeks.”
“Why did you call him? Don’t you want to be done with all of this?”
“I didn’t call him. He called me,” Advani said.
“Why? What does he want?”
“He wants us to know the truth about Tarek, that Tarek meant us no harm, and that his only goal was to stop an attack that might start a war, and . . .”
“And what?”
“And to tell you that Tarek is truly in love with you. He has been from the moment he met you.”
Sahar did not respond for a few moments. “Where is he?”
“Tarek?”
Sahar nodded.
“He’s in Abu Dhabi. He can’t return to Pakistan, as it seems his office has fallen into unfriendly hands, and he would almost certainly be jailed. His life, as he knew it, is over.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for him? Or somehow accept him back? No, this is not possible.”
Advani reached out to take Sahar’s hand. “Sahar, I would never want to cause you any pain, but I saw how happy you were with Tarek, and I believe the Tarek you cared so much about is a good man, despite his deception. I saw it for myself. Your heart wasn’t wrong.”
Another tear slipped down Sahar’s cheek. “But he betrayed me.”
“No, he didn’t, Sahar. A lie and a betrayal are not the same thing.”
“Oh really, father? Tell me, what is the difference?”
Hearing a soft flutter of wings, Advani looked up to see a pair of green parrots as they settled on the branches of a tree next to where he and Sahar sat. They were the first parrots that he had seen in many weeks.
Sahar repeated her question. “So Father, what is the difference?”
Advani turned his gaze from the parrots to Sahar and smiled. “A lie can be forgiven.”
About the Author: Duane Evans is a former CIA officer with field tours on four continents to include serving as Chief of Station, CIA’s most senior field position. He is the recipient of the Intelligence Star for valor. Prior to joining the Agency, he was a U.S. Army Special Forces officer. North From Calcutta is his first novel.