“Nice to see you, Imtiaz,” Abby said through her hands, hoping the contempt she felt wasn’t obvious.
He leaned in toward Abby, and Najeela said sweetly, “Uncle, none of that now.”
Abby could have kissed her for that quick rescue.
“Please join us for lunch, Uncle. Are you hungry?”
Imtiaz shook his head. “Well, perhaps a small bite, and of course I shall be pleased to feast on the beauty before me.”
Abby groaned, and Imtiaz and Najeela turned and looked at her. “My stomach is growling,” Abby said, hoping that explanation would suffice. “Imtiaz,” she hurriedly added, “what is the business you have here? The hotel is so grand.” She could have vomited at the cloying sound of her voice, but if it inspired Imtiaz to open up, it would be worth it, and Nick would be plenty impressed.
Imtiaz turned to Abby. “My dear, I had no idea you were interested in business.”
Abby tried to think fast. “Me either, Imtiaz, but it turns out I am. I’ll never get rich as a nurse, so it doesn’t hurt to look at other options. Don’t you agree?”
“Ah, Abby, you are quite right, and I’d love nothing more than to take you under my wing. I could teach you so much.”
I’ll bet you could, you old snake, Abby thought, but she smiled as she asked, “Just what is your business?”
“Ah, well.” A long pause filled the air. “Here,” he said as the food arrived, the fiery fragrance filling the air. “It’s impolite to speak of business over lunch, don’t you agree?”
Abby reached for the bread. “Actually, no,” she said, impressed by her own boldness. “Surely you’ve heard of the business lunch? Or perhaps that’s strictly American.” She smiled sweetly through a mouthful of the curried rice. “Please, don’t hesitate on our account.” She motioned to Najeela. “I’m sure Najeela won’t mind.”
Abby caught a glimpse of a smiling Najeela. “Not at all,” Najeela said. “Please feel free to speak, Uncle. Who knows—maybe someday you and Abby will be partners, and it could all start here.”
Abby’s stomach churned, but Najeela’s words seemed to have the desired effect, and Imtiaz smiled broadly, his dull yellow teeth peeking through his beard. He leaned closer, and the sour smell of his breath filled the space between them. Abby pulled away and reached for her water. “Najeela says you are a farmer, Imtiaz. I’ve never known a farmer, and I have so many questions.”
“As do I,” Imtiaz said.
“Guests first.” Abby swallowed the lump of unease in her throat. “Tell me about your farm. Where is it? What do you grow? I’m just fascinated.”
Imtiaz seemed about to burst at the attention. “Ah, dear Abby, you must accompany me to my glorious fields in Spin Boldak in Kandahar or to my home in Helmand Province.” He leaned back and worked a toothpick through his stained teeth. “And you must see my fields for yourself—I grow flowers.”
“Flowers? Poppies?”
“Why would you think that?” Imtiaz pulled the splintered toothpick from his mouth.
“Actually, Najeela told me.”
Imtiaz lowered his eyes, snaring Najeela with his gaze.
Najeela’s eyes grew wide. “You do though, Uncle, yes?” Najeela asked softly.
“I do, but you know how people misinterpret that information. I grow them for medicinal use.”
“That’s very noble,” Abby said, fighting the smile that threatened to spring to her lips. “Is there money in that?”
“Abby, it’s very lucrative. You must know too how costly medicine is. And the truth is, I make a fraction of what it’s worth,” he said solemnly, “but I’m helping those in need, and that makes me happy.”
A smile broke out on Abby’s face. Nick would love that spin—Imtiaz isn’t a crook, he’s a humanitarian. She turned back to her food and watched as Imtiaz dipped his fingers into the bowl of rice. He worked his fingers into the center and smiled as he transferred a mound of rice into his mouth. He ate noisily, slapping the food against his tongue. When he reached his stubby fingers into the bowl a second time, Abby, her stomach lurching, set her fork down. She didn’t think she’d ever eat rice again.
Abby watched Imtiaz as he ate, his fingers working furiously over the lamb and rice as he stuffed them into his mouth. Finally, he sat back, the toothpick dangling from his lips.
Abby pounced. “So, are the poppies part of your other business, your export business, as well?” She flashed what she hoped was her best guileless grin, hoping to catch Imtiaz off guard. When he began to choke and spit, his toothpick popped out, falling into the rice. He snatched it back, balancing it once again on the edge of his lips, and in a feat of facial contortion, he somehow managed to frown at the same time.
Abby stifled a smile at his reaction and tried to put him at ease again. “Perhaps I misunderstood. Najeela, didn’t you tell me Imtiaz was in the export business?”
The smile had faded from Najeela’s face, and she glanced at Imtiaz before she finally answered. “Well, I did, yes, but the truth is I have no head for business. I’m not sure what export means.”
Imtiaz gently removed the now cracked toothpick from his lips, and a small smile replaced his frown. “My sweet niece has no head for anything these days, I would say.”
Najeela giggled. “Oh, Uncle,” she said sweetly.
Imtiaz poured himself a glass of water and gulped it noisily. And that, Abby thought, puts an end to my questioning.
“And your friend, the reporter,” Imtiaz said, his gaze locked on Abby, “he’s back, is he?”
A swell of uncertainty broke over Abby.
Najeela spun toward Abby. “Oh my,” she asked, her voice tinged with genuine surprise, “is Nick back?”
Think fast, Abby told herself. It seemed clear that Najeela had no idea Nick was back, but somehow Imtiaz knew. How the hell did he know? Maybe he was guessing, bluffing, Abby thought. “I don’t know. Is he?” she asked Imtiaz, widening her eyes in feigned surprise. “You seem to know more about him than I do these days.”
“Oh, come, my dear,” Imtiaz said. “Wasn’t he in Geneva recently?”
Abby felt the color drain from her face. He must be watching Nick—or someone was watching for him. Abby sat forward and tried to recover her composure. “I don’t know about Nick, but I was in Geneva. That’s where I had my UN orientation. Lovely city.”
“That’s right, Uncle,” Najeela said. “Abby came in through Geneva.”
Abby could have sworn that Imtiaz froze for an instant, and she watched as he combed his fingers through his beard, bits of rice dropping onto the table.
“Ah, Geneva. You enjoyed it?” He leaned closer, his eyes cold, almost inhuman in their intensity.
A chill ran through Abby’s veins. Her mind raced as she tried to find something innocuous to say. Then the waiter miraculously appeared, putting an abrupt and welcome end to the questions. Abby shook her head to the waiter’s question about dessert and put her napkin over her plate. “As a matter of fact,” she said, looking at her watch, “I think we should go, Najeela, if we’re to finish shopping.”
“Oh my,” she said. “You’re right. We’re going to run, Uncle, and you’ll take care of the bill for us?” Najeela rose and threw her scarf over her head.
Imtiaz grunted an unintelligible reply.
“Khoda khafez,” Abby said, relieved to be free of his questions and foul habits.
Now that Abby had used shopping with Najeela as an excuse to get away from Imtiaz, she was stuck. She was desperate to track Nick down, but that would have to wait. She smiled at Najeela. “Where to?” she asked as Mohammed held open the car door.
Najeela clapped her hands together as she slid into the car. “Oh, Abby, the old bazaar. I’ll show you the silver shop.” Najeela sat forward and directed Mohammed to the bazaar.
Abby sat back. This was going to be a long afternoon.
Chapter 25
Abby slept peacefully that night. Not even her run-in with Imtiaz kept her awake. When
she woke, she had only a vague recollection of the night’s dream, of the bracelet and the man who’d pulled it from the dead woman. She supposed now that Nick had confirmed the murder, there wasn’t any need for her unconscious mind to jolt her memory through nightmares. The facts were all there, safe and just waiting for the final chapter—the identification of the murderer. And that, Abby had no doubt, was about to happen.
She looked at her watch. Nine o’clock already. Good thing it was the weekend. Lingering longer than she ordinarily would, she remembered that neither Najeela nor Mohammed would be in today. Maybe she’d call Nick early, see if he’d take her to the rescue house, maybe even go out for another search for the girls. When Abby pulled her door open, she heard Hana’s voice in the kitchen, and she headed to see who was here.
She peered around the corner and saw Nick sitting across from Hana, who seemed to be regaling him with a story that had him so absorbed he didn’t notice Abby standing there. Hana saw her and stood quickly, almost guiltily, Abby thought, wishing Hana weren’t so skittish about being the housekeeper.
Nick caught Hana’s sudden move and turned warily. When he spied Abby, he stood and smiled. “Morning, Abby. We were wondering when you’d get up.” He glanced back quickly at Hana.
“Go on into the dining room. I’ll bring your breakfast in,” she said.
Nick and Abby headed to the dining room. “What was that all about? You two seemed deep in conversation.”
“We were just chatting about nothing. What about you? Where’ve you been? I came by yesterday, and no one was here. Not you, not Hana, not even Najeela or that driver.”
“Mohammed, his name is Mohammed.”
“So, where was everyone?”
“Out,” Abby replied. “And I would have called, but aside from calling the hotel, there’s no way to reach you.”
“Keeps me safe. But back to you. Where were you?”
“I was having lunch with Najeela and Imtiaz.”
“Oh, shit, I don’t even wanna know.”
“Yes, you do, trust me. Imtiaz knows about you, knows you’re back, knows you were in Geneva.”
Nick sat up straight. “You have my undivided attention. Start with how the hell you wound up having lunch with him.”
“I was at the Pearl with Najeela, and we were about to eat when he just showed up.”
“Just showed up? You don’t think Najeela invited him on the sly? You really don’t think it was a setup?” Nick’s irritation seeped through his words.
“I don’t, Nick. She seemed genuinely surprised to see him. I’m certain she wasn’t faking it. And when Imtiaz mentioned that you were back, Najeela had no idea.”
“You must have told her, Abby. Just think back. You must’ve let it slip.”
“I didn’t let anything slip, at least not to Najeela, and I’m telling you, Nick, she had no idea you were back or where you’d been. But Imtiaz sure did, and he asked about it.”
“Jesus, how the hell would he know that unless he has someone watching me, watching us?”
“Maybe he does have someone watching, maybe not—but I may have mentioned to Mohammed that you were back, that you were picking me up from the camp the other day.” She caught the look of frustration on Nick’s face. “Sorry, Nick, I just told him he didn’t have to stay around, that you’d be picking me up. But, Imtiaz definitely didn’t know where you were, at least not from me, and I didn’t say a word to Najeela either.”
Hana bustled in, clearing her throat and banging the tray down. “Breakfast. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
Nick hesitated for a minute, waiting, Abby thought, for Hana to be out of earshot. “So what else did he know?”
Abby smiled. “Not much. And I think you would’ve been proud of me. When he showed up, I remembered you said you’d like to question him out in the open, and I thought since I was there, I’d try to do it for you.”
Nick leaned forward, his head on his hands, and groaned. “I don’t think I want to hear this.”
“Oh, come on, you know you do. I asked him about his business and his poppy farms. I even asked if he exported the poppies. You should have seen his face.” Abby looked at Nick, his mouth agape. “Jesus, you should see yours. I did pretty well, Nick. He was definitely flustered, and I acted just dumb enough to seem innocent about it all.”
“Uh . . .” Nick hesitated.
“What?” Abby asked.
“Nothing, go on.”
“Well—you’ll love this—he told me he sells the poppies for medicinal use, says he doesn’t make what they’re worth, but it’s for the greater good.” Abby chuckled. “He’s not a crook, Nick, he’s a benevolent old farmer.”
“Okay, pretty interesting. But he knows you’re not stupid, and now you’ve really pissed him off.”
“I know I have, and up until he turned the tables on me and began to ask about you and Geneva, I thought I really had him.”
“Almost hate to say it, but you probably never had him. The old goat’s no fool.”
“Get your own information then. Christ, why do I even help you?” Abby reached for the coffee, affronted.
“We help each other, don’t we?”
“I guess, but why do you have to be such an ass? Jeez, how do you ever get information that way?”
“I’ve learned that if people are angry with you, they’ll let their guard down and tell you more than they intended. If they like you, they clam up. No one wants to share stuff that makes them look bad.”
“You have no memory of the day we met, huh?” Abby asked wryly.
“I do, believe me, but it all worked out. I’d never have learned you possibly witnessed a murder if you liked me from the start, right?”
“Oh, get over yourself, will you?” Abby chided. “I only told you that when I liked and trusted you enough to share that.”
Nick’s gaze softened. “I concede that I may have to rethink some of my tactics, but did you just say that you liked me?” He winked.
“I did.”
Nick leaned in and kissed her quickly. “I like you too, Abby. A lot. And someday soon we’ll chat about that, but for now let’s head to the rescue house, see if there’s any word.”
A smile settled on Abby’s lips, and she sighed. “Just let me grab my bag and we’re out of here,” she said, heading to her room. “We’re going, Hana,” she called from the door.
“Where’s Mohammed today?” Nick asked.
“Probably off,” Abby said. “He was here yesterday, seems like he’s never off, so he’s probably due. Najeela always has him running for her.”
“But he was here yesterday? Lunch with Imtiaz? A little convenient, don’t you think?”
“Jeez, Nick, don’t make me suspicious of everyone. He’s a nice guy, he works hard.”
“But he knew about the house, right? He knew I was away, and he knew you were at the Pearl having lunch. Are you seeing a pattern here?”
“I think there’s probably a great explanation. I don’t think he’s a spy.”
“I hope you’re right, but for now, do not tell him anything, and I mean anything. Agreed?”
Abby nodded, and Nick settled in behind the wheel, directing the car into the thick of morning traffic. When they finally broke free, they pulled off Ring Road and through the maze of back streets to the rescue house, where a smiling Bina greeted them.
“Salaam,” she said softly.
Abby smiled and kissed her cheeks. “Good morning, Bina. How are you?”
“Acha.”
They followed her into the house and into the kitchen. The shades were drawn, the room in shadow. “Why so dark in here?” Abby said, blinking her eyes to adjust to the change in light.
“Because I here,” a familiar voice whispered. Abby opened her eyes wide. Anyu was sitting at the table.
Abby’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God!” Tears stung her eyes. “Are you okay?” She bent to Anyu and kissed her cheeks. “Are Pari and Geeta with you? Oh, God, I’m so
damn happy to see you.”
Abby collapsed into a chair across from Anyu, and Nick stood behind her. “We looked all over for you, Anyu. We were all worried.”
“Sorry,” she murmured.
Abby looked around. “Where is everyone? Where’s Zara and Mariyah? And the girls? Where are they?”
“Zara and Mariyah will be back soon. They went to the bazaar for rice and bread,” Bina said.
Abby nodded and turned back to Anyu. “Please, Anyu, tell me what happened.”
Anyu took a deep breath as if to steel herself and leaned forward. “Girls safe, going home.”
“But how?” Nick asked.
“I take them to women who helped me, who brought me here. They good, they keep secrets, so I know girls will be safe with them.”
“But what happened? Why didn’t you tell anyone you were leaving?”
“I worry for girls when car of you”—Anyu pointed to Abby—“come at night. It park outside, and man walk around. I see him. I know this not good.”
“What do you mean ‘car of me’? I don’t have a car.”
Anyu shook her head. “You have car, and you have Pakistani driver, man you brought food to.”
“Mohammed?” Nick asked.
Anyu nodded.
Abby gasped. “He was here? At night? Where was that guard?”
“Guard sleep at night, but driver of you here, he wide-awake. And I worry for girls. Why he here? Why he watch house at night?”
“Why couldn’t you tell us? Why leave with the girls?”
“I not know if you and Mistah Nick good. Understand? I think, maybe you send car. Maybe you want girls. Maybe you tell police about Delhi. I afraid.”
Abby closed her eyes. “I’m sorry, Anyu. I brought Mohammed here. It’s my fault.”
“It’s not anyone’s fault, Abby,” Nick said in exasperation. “Go on, Anyu.”
“I take money only for we need it. I wake girls and say we are leaving. Pari happy, Geeta crying. I shush them, they get dressed in new clothes, and we get to train station when it still dark. Too early for tickets so we hide until ticket man come. I buy tickets to Lahore, but train not leave until afternoon. We hide there in the morning, stay by tree and watch, but no one come.”
The Bracelet Page 23