Authors: Kaylea Cross
Her gaze strayed to Ben. He was propped up with his back against a boulder, choosing small pebbles lying around him and throwing them at Rhys, who was talking to Luke. The first one hit him between the shoulder blades. The second bounced off his shoulder. The third caught him on the back of his neck and he still didn't react. But when the fourth one pinged off the back of his head, Rhys finally got pissed off and whipped an apple-sized rock at his brother's head. Ben ducked as it sailed past his ear and smashed into a boulder with a solid thunk and broke into pieces. He even had the gall to snicker. The display made Sam thankful she'd never had a brother.
After that Ben gave up and tipped his head back, resigned to his boredom, and things got quiet again. With her head pillowed by a wad of socks she let herself drift. All too soon Ben woke her. She blinked up at his tall silhouette, backlit by the brilliant mid-day sun, and stifled a sigh of disappointment that her nap was over.
“Time to go, sweets.”
Oh, God, already? Mind over matter, she told herself, and shrugged on her ruck. Instantly her neck and shoulder muscles shrieked in protest. Rolling her head didn't relieve the strain, so she settled for slipping her thumbs beneath the cushioned straps to ease the way they cut into her flesh.
Luke waited ahead on point, and as soon as she got into line behind Rhys, he started off. They had to be at least nine thousand feet up by now. Her pounding headache could have been from the onset of altitude sickness, but when she'd researched it, she'd found most instances didn't show up until between eight hours to two days after surpassing eight thousand feet, so she'd have to attribute it to the weight on her shoulders and possible dehydration.
To their left, the terrain dropped away sharply, while the mountains reached skyward on the right. Was Neveah up there somewhere? Is that why no one had found the hostage camp yet? The area was so vast, so rugged. How would they ever find her in time? She kept thinking of bin Laden and that the US military, with all its powers had been unable to find him in these same mountains.
They'd hiked along the ridgeline for another hour when all of a sudden Luke made a sharp hand signal, waving his palm at the ground as he dropped to one knee. Rhys instantly followed suit, and so did she, but Ben came up to her in a crouch and squatted down, eyes trained in the distance. In the sudden silence, all Sam could hear was the pounding of her heart and her labored breathing. What had Luke seen? He was staring through a pair of high-powered binoculars, in a north-easterly direction if she was reading the location of the sun properly.
Luke lowered the binoculars and glanced at them, lifting two fingers to his eyes, then holding up his index finger. One contact approaching. A scout? The head of a group of fighters? She swallowed, turned her head to see what Ben wanted her to do, ready to dive for cover or make a run for it back the way they'd come to that group of boulders they'd passed a ways back on the trail. They'd make good cover if a firefight broke out, and from there she could whip out the radio, crank it up and call in help if they needed it.
And then hope the hell the cavalry got there in time to help.
“Get your burqa on,” Ben said in a whisper that barely reached her.
Without hesitation she threw off her ruck and dug inside for the voluminous blue garment, tugging it over her head with shaky hands. The hooded veil was the worst part, because it made her feel suffocated, and the air was already thin enough. Through the stillness a few minutes later, the musical chime of tiny bells reached her ears, growing louder with each passing moment. Then Luke snapped his fingers at her.
Get over here.
A startled instant passed in which she fought the urge to look over her shoulder for someone else. Surely he didn't mean her? But Ben nudged her with his arm.
“Go,” he whispered.
Staying low, Sam got to her feet and made her way to Luke, who hauled her upright despite her rigid muscles. The shoulder straps gouged into her flesh, sweat forming beneath the pack across her back. She sucked in air through her nostrils, trying to stay as quiet as possible, praying whoever was out there would pass by without noticing them. It wasn't to be.
In the distance, a smooth-faced adolescent boy emerged on the trail ahead of them, driving a herd of goats. He was tall and thin, dressed in flowing pants, a tunic and vest, with a round hat on top of his curling black hair. He scrambled over the lip of the ridge and paused to dust himself off while the animals bleated and milled around him, the bells tied around their necks tinkling. When he caught sight of them he froze, his hand halted in mid-motion on the front of his vest. His eyes widened, and he glanced about as if wondering whether he should run or not.
Sam bit the inside of her cheek, watching Luke. What would he do? If he captured him, they had nothing to tie their prisoner to, so unless he wanted to hog-tie the kid using duct tape that wasn't a viable option. She doubted Luke would kill him, though, and not because he cared about her psychological well-being. Even a suppressed shot would make noise that would echo down into the valley below, and sooner or later the goats milling about would give away the body's position and everyone in the goat herder's village would know enemy soldiers had killed him. Then they'd have every Taliban fighter within a hundred miles or more scouring the mountainside for them, day and night. It was the night part that scared Sam the most.
Her best guess was that Luke intended to use her presence to convince the boy to believe whatever story he was concocting in his formidable mind. She hoped it was a good one.
While the twins hunkered in their hidden positions, Luke left her, approaching the boy and calling out in Pashto. The goat herder stopped his instinctive retreat and remained where he was, regarding them warily. Sam could only pick out a word or two, but his attention seemed riveted on Luke, as though trying to make up his mind whether or not he was a threat. His black eyes swept over her and back to the towering man in front of him, but so far Sam didn't think he'd spotted the twins frozen still as boulders further down the trail. In answer to Luke's questions, he gestured down into the valley, speaking in a low, respectful tone. He glanced her way again, his expression full of curiosity, and Sam wondered how in hell Luke had explained their presence way up here at 9,000 feet.
Then again, a woman shrouded in a burqa and loaded down like a pack animal wasn't a threatening sight, and maybe that's exactly why Luke had brought her forward. Then a wide grin broke over that smooth, pre-pubescent face when Luke produced something from his pack.
After conversing for another few minutes, the boy inclined his head and shook the hand Luke offered, then went on his way, glancing over his shoulder once to wave farewell as he herded his goats back down the hill away from them. When he'd disappeared from view and the bleating and tinkling of bells faded in the eerily still air, Luke came back.
“That was Karim,” he said. “A local from a village a few miles from here, under protection of a warlord I had dealings with in the Afghan-Russian war. Said he hasn't heard anything about American hostages in the area, but he'll keep his ears open.”
Sam frowned, running her gaze over his neatly trimmed beard and sharp, obsidian eyes. Battle weary eyes. “Did he guess you were American?”
“Probably, after I dropped the warlord's name, but that seemed to impress him enough to agree to be our informant. Then I sealed the deal with a Hershey bar.”
Coming up behind her, Ben laughed. “Helluva lot cheaper than a wad of cash.”
“Hey, whatever works. And I promised guns, of course.”
“Oh, that goes without saying.”
Sam wasn't convinced this was a happy turn of events. Even now that kid could be running to the closest Taliban scout and betraying their position. If that happened, the hills would be swarming with radical warriors bristling with AK-47s and the conviction that Allah had prepared a place in paradise for their sacrifice. The automatic rifles were only part of their worry, and they all knew it. But Sam wanted it straight from the horse's mouth, from the one who had trained the enemy they were now moving amongst.
“This warlord,” she said to Luke. “Was he one of the tribal leaders given Stingers in the eighties?”
His enigmatic gaze warmed a fraction, as though she secretly amused him. “Christ, you read too much, Wallace.”
Yeah, and so she knew all about the accounts of CIA operatives sent in to buy back the heat-seeking anti-aircraft missiles that had so decimated the Soviet Air Force.
“Maybe the Agency should think about making you an analyst instead.”
Not in this lifetime. “So did he sell the ones he didn't use up to the Agency for a ton of money, or does he still have a few lying around?” If they got into serious trouble and needed air support, the heat-seeking Stingers would cause a major problem for any rescue aircraft coming in to save their asses. And if the warlord had sold the weapons back to the US, God only knew what he'd used the cash to replace them with.
“Not sure. I don't remember being at that meeting.”
Uh-huh. Good to know they were deep in enemy territory with no reinforcements, surrounded by people who'd been at war for generations in this harsh land, and were armed with US weapons that included Stingers, land mines, rifles, and ammunition. Not to mention the Chinese AKs and RPGs. See what reading stacks of books on counter-terrorism did for a girl?
At least the introduction to Karim had ended peacefully and now they might have an ally out here in the middle of nowhere. Shouldering her pack though the straps dug cruelly into her muscles, she got in line and trudged out behind Luke and Rhys.
“Nerd,” Ben teased in a whisper.
She cast a glare at him. Like he was any better? He knew more than she did about the things going on behind the scenes in this war, and worried just as much about things he had no control over. Hence all the Tums he thought nobody knew about. Tossing her head, she extended her middle finger and kept going. His deep chuckle followed her.
Hours later, Luke led them down a steep but short face of shale and over a narrow trail to a cave hollowed out in the side of the mountain, to find Davis sitting on a boulder at the mouth of it, lounging with his back against the sun-warmed rock as though he didn't have a care in the world.
As a former Green Beret, he'd had extensive training in FID, foreign internal defense, so it was no wonder he was comfortable out here. He'd spent most of his adult life infiltrating hostile villages in hot spots throughout the Middle East, earning the peoples’ trust to gather valuable human intelligence and then training the villagers how to conduct their own fight against insurgents. From the reading she'd done, she'd learned Green Berets were teachers as much as they were soldiers. Davis’ fluency in Arabic, Pashto and Farsi, paired with his chameleon-like ability to blend into other cultures, made him an ideal field operative. They were lucky to have him on their team.
“Hey,” he said, removing his wraparound sunglasses, a smile crinkling the corners of his ebony eyes. “Glad you guys could make it.”
Ben glanced around and snorted. “You've been up here for what— two days? And this is the best digs you could set up?”
“Yeah, well, the interior decorator I hired must have gotten lost, because she never showed up. I hear that happens a lot up here.”
This was all too bizarre. It was like they'd arranged a camping trip together and were just about to crack open a few cans of Budweiser around the fire. Only too happy to get the backpack off, Sam set it down with a groan and rubbed at her aching neck and shoulders. The cave was about four or five times deeper than its width, and littered with broken crates. “Taliban use this place before?” she asked Davis.
“Them or Al Qaeda. But don't worry. They're long gone since all the carpet bombing and JDAMs the Air Force sent in here a couple years back.”
So strange, to be staying in a place once occupied by the enemy. At least the climb was over. Now she'd have at least a few hours for her body to acclimate and get everything set up the way she wanted so she could work with maximum efficiency. She pulled her laptop and equipment out, then got to work getting it all up and running while the guys set up their perimeter and went over logistics. She was linking up with a secure CIA database when Ben came over and hunkered down next to her. Every nerve in her body went haywire, including the ones in her brain.
“How ya doin', sweets?”
“Good.” She ignored the invisible pull he exerted on her and kept watching the laptop screen, determined not to let him or any of the others know how much he affected her. Nobody else needed to know what had happened between them last night.
“Everything's secure, so you can get some sleep once you're done.”
“Thanks, but I want to dig into the files the Kabul office sent over. Their intel on the Islamic Resistance goes back at least six years.” She typed in a command, accessed the secure link and brought up the encrypted files. “Hopefully we'll find out who's been active in this area recently, and then hear some chatter about Nev.”
Her head was killing her. The pain shot straight up from her burning shoulders to her neck and landed in her temples. She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand to ease it, and thought about taking some ibuprofen.
Ben nudged her hand away as he'd done the night before to squeeze and knead the stiff muscles with his strong fingers. Helpless to resist, she closed her eyes and moaned in relief.
He chuckled. “You should take something. As glad as I'd be for an excuse to get my hands all over you, I don't want an audience for that.”
She laughed, blushing to her hairline. “I've got some meds in my pack.”
“I'll get them.”
“It's okay— ”
“I said I'll get them.”
She scrolled through some old e-mails about the militant group's operations in the tribal region of Pakistan along the Afghan border, but her concentration splintered because Ben was rifling through her stuff. She opened her mouth to protest, but bit her lip. He already thought she was an up-tight freak, and she didn't want to give him the satisfaction of proving he was right. But it drove her nuts.