Raptor 6 (8 page)

“Yeah, that’s not a good thing. Because she’s a hottie, and we need conversation.” Hawk winked.

Dean glared. “We need
information
. Whoever set that bomb is out there. We have to avoid unrest when we’re trying to scale things back in the region. Don’t need innocents dying and us getting blamed.” Even as the last words left his mouth, he realized how terse they sounded. How much like his father he sounded. He twitched away the thought.

“I need to talk to Zarrick. Without her cousin.” But with the rules of society here, Zarrick couldn’t be alone with him—so maybe he’d find common ground. “How bad is the school?”

“Half gone,” Falcon mumbled.

“Structurally sound, usable?”

His second in command eyed him without turning his head. “What’re you thinking?” Falcon set aside his AAR and straightened.

“That if they don’t have to leave, they won’t. We need information, and if the school has to be relocated, we lose a possible lead. That school was targeted for a reason. I want to know why and by whom, because once Z-Day finds out, he’ll be eating us for lunch.” Dean stabbed a finger at the file. “These women saw men who didn’t belong. What if the men were at the school?”

“Dude.” Hawk sputtered a laugh. “They could’ve seen the men walking to the school, walking to the market—anywhere in the city.”

“Maybe, but I have a feeling Miss Zarrick doesn’t loiter around the city—she knows the dangers here. She abides by the customs, wears local clothes, and even looks the part, but her speech gives her away.” Dean nodded, thinking through the facts. “As an American, she knows she’s an easy, soft target.”

“You know this isn’t our problem,” Falcon said. “We aren’t CID. Let them handle it. Besides, nothing’s happening at the school—a kid’s missing.”

“Our responsibility is securing the area, and since we were first on the scene and there’s a missing child, we own this. Finding out how that SCIF got into the village on the outskirts is priority one, but this upheaval—it’s mighty interesting that a stolen military computer is found the same time as this school is blown and mysterious men are reported in the city.”

Hawk smirked again. “No, that just sounds like a day in Mazar-e.”

Irritation clawed its way up his spine and pushed Dean from the chair. “I’m going to talk to Burnett.”

“And say what?” Falcon asked.

“That I want to follow up.”

“With who?”

“Zarrick. I have a feeling she’ll be forthcoming if I can get her alone.”

Hawk let out a catcall.

Dean balled a fist. “Without her cousin.”

Hawk hooted more.

Haidary Residence, Mazar-e Sharif
28 May—1020 Hours

The ride home had been made in stiff silence that strained Zahrah’s nerves. By the time they reached the compound of her uncle’s home, she withered beneath the thunder of another headache. She lifted the bottle of pills she’d been given and remembered the nurse saying she’d feel the pain soon enough. But it was not just the physical injury. The pain of Fekiria’s admonishment, the undulating disapproval from her uncle, who kept glaring at her in the rearview mirror … Zahrah drew in a breath and looked out as the car pulled up to the blue painted plaster wall. He honked twice and the gate swung open. Her half-dozen cousins, all younger than Fekiria, swarmed the car. Laughing, waving at Zahrah, running alongside as her kaka threaded the sedan through the gates to the compound.

He hopped out and stormed inside the house.

Car doors swung open and in flooded the children. Laily dropped across Zahrah and hugged her. “We were scared you weren’t coming back,” the five-year-old announced.

Arms around her little cousin, Zahrah savored the welcome home the others gave her as she climbed out. They clamored around her. All save thirteen-year-old Daoud, who wore the same severe expression of his father and older brother, Adeeb. Zahrah worried over her uncle’s temper.

“He is angry with you,” Fekiria said as they moved inside the two-story home.

“Why is Daoud angry?”

“Because Baba is angry.”

Zahrah set down Laily and turned. Her khala Hafizah scurried toward her, arms raised for a hug. “
Salaam, bachem
,” she said, tears pooling in her dark eyes.

“Salaam, Khala,” Zahrah greeted her aunt in return, grateful for the warm embrace and concern flowing out of her expression and words.

“Your father has called so many times.” She pressed a kiss to each side of Zahrah’s face then handed her a phone. “You must call him so he will stop acting like an old woman!”

Zahrah laughed then winced as a pang stabbed through her skull. At the same time, she spied her uncle glowering at her from the other side of the room. She lowered her head, a sign of submission, but it also allowed her to break his gaze.

Her aunt didn’t miss it. “Go. Call Peter then rest. I will bring up food for you later.”

“I don’t want to be any trouble.”

“No, no trouble. You are family. It is my joy.”

“Thank you.” Zahrah started for the stairs. At her elbow, she felt Fekiria following her.

“Fekiria,” her aunt called. “Come help me.”

Though her cousin groaned, Zahrah was secretly glad to be alone. She let herself into the room she shared with Fekiria, Laily, and Camila. On the mattress of the lower bunk, she took a moment to compose herself. To sort herself from the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. The explosion. Seeing Rashid so bloodied … wondering if Ara had died. Grief strangled her anew. Zahrah lowered her head. Closed her eyes.

Father, I know You wanted me to come here, but I’m struggling to understand why. There is so much death here. No happiness
.

With a slow breath for courage, she dialed her father.

“Zahrah!” The way he said her name radiated his relief, which flooded through the connection and soaked her.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said, feeling unusually American using that term.

“Are you okay? They said you were hurt. What happened? Why did they keep you? Speak to me!”

She couldn’t help the laugh as she pushed back across the mattress and rested against the plastered wall, knees up. “If you’d stop talking,” she teased. Then sighed. “I’m okay, Daddy. I am. Really. They took good care of me at the base.”

“It’s German run, you know. But American personnel are there, too. You shouldn’t have had any problems.” He made a clicking noise. “Then again, it’s German run. If you had problems, I want to know. I can make some calls. Run a few butts up the flagpole.”

Another laugh. Ever the general. “No problems.” She thought of the handsome captain who’d put Fekiria on edge. “I need your advice though, Daddy.”

“Shoot.”

She smiled. Now he sounded in control of himself. “One of the soldiers was asking me about what happened, what I saw.”

“Good. They’d better find out who did this.”

“Your protective side is kicking in.”

“It never kicked
out
.”

Her father’s protective side unleashed something in her that she’d held close, tight. Her vision blurred. It was the headache. The exhaustion. That’s why she wanted to cry. But what she wouldn’t do for one of his thick-chested, strong-armed hugs right now. “I miss you, Daddy.”

“I miss you too, Z-baby.” His voice cracked. “I …”

“Please, don’t.” She didn’t need his “I told you so” lecture. Not now. He hadn’t wanted her to come to Afghanistan. It was unsafe … it was dangerous.
“There’s a reason your grandfather left that place.”

“Fair enough. But what I wouldn’t do to get you out of there, to change your mind,” he said. “But you come by that stubborn streak honestly. In fact, you got a double-barrel dose of it.”

Laughter was good medicine. The Word said so. And she believed it because the cloud that had hovered over her heart and life parted.

“You said you needed advice.”

“Right.” She cleared her mind and throat. “The captain wanted to ask me questions, but Fekiria wouldn’t let me answer him. She was afraid of the men at the school.”

“What men?”

“I … I don’t know who they were.” She rubbed the middle of her forehead, trying to think. “Fekiria and I noticed them before, but yesterday one of them all but threatened me.” She told her dad of the way he’d held Rashid and what he said. How they’d been in the lower basement. “He’s one of those men who makes my skin crawl.”

“Okay, you listen to me,” he said, General Zarrick front and center. Strange comfort always embraced her when he shifted into this role. “I want you to find a way back to that base. Do you remember the name of the soldier talking to you?”

“Watters, Captain Watters.”

“Okay, good. You get to that base and tell him everything you’ve told me.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “So, you think it’s serious?”

“Z-baby, they blew up the school. This is beyond serious.” He grunted. “In fact, I don’t want you going back to the school.”

Zahrah swallowed, thinking about the children. This is how suppression prevailed. What was it they said? All it takes for evil to prevail is for good men—or women in her case—to do nothing. “Daddy, I can’t let the bullies stop me from teaching. They’ll win, but more important, the children will lose. They’ll lose so much.”

“Baby, if you’re dead, who’s going to fight that battle for you?”

Why did he always have to make sense? “I can’t just give up.”

“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you to arm our troops with information needed to put insurgents away, to give them time to rout this enemy. That’s what this captain needs to do. You need to stay low. You hearing me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl. Now, I’m going to make some calls to a few friends. Make sure they look out for you.”

“Daddy.” Her heart climbed into her throat. “Please. Don’t. It will draw attention.”

“Attention’s already been drawn. We’re beyond that.”

“But … the children—”

“Need protection. That’s why our troops are there, and to help souls of gold like you to stay safe. To make sure innocents stay living and breathing so they can see what freedom is really like.” The clacking of a keyboard carried through the line. “I’m sending an e-mail to an old friend. Now, how do you plan to get back to the base?”

“I …” She searched for a plausible excuse.

“I know your mother’s brother. He won’t let you out of his sight if he can help it.”

“I’ll talk—”

“Hafizah will be your best option.”

“Yes,” Zahrah said with a smile, as if he’d read her thoughts. “I’ll … Rashid.” She smiled bigger. “I’ll try to see him tomorrow. They wouldn’t let anyone see him today. I just have to find a way to keep Fekiria from going with me.”

“Good. Good. Work on it. Hafizah will believe that about visiting the boy. Check in with the family, too. That’ll buy charity points with locals.”

“Daddy,” she hissed. “I’m not buying points. I love these people. They were Mom’s people.”

“I know. I’m just—”

“Thinking like a general again.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckled. “You can take the dog out of the fight, but you can’t take the fight out of the dog. Even one as old as me.”

“That’s because you’re a sheepdog.”

“Hooah.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“Love you too, Z-Baby. Take care. Talk to Captain Watters. Give him all you got.”

Sub-base Schwarzburg, Camp Marmal
Mazar-e Sharif, Balkh Province
28 May—1845 Hours

F
resh from a workout and shower, Dean sat on one of the leather sofas before the flat-screen TV on the wall at the USO center. Images moved across the display, but his mind had already vanished into the past. He should e-mail Desi.

And say what?

Didn’t matter. It’d been too long since they talked.

Way too long
. She’d lecture him about dropping off the face of the earth.

Like he needed more guilt.

A shout snapped his attention to the partially walled-in area beneath the rec deck, where two tables offered a friendly game of pool. Emphasis on
friendly
. Which was the opposite of Hawk’s angry, twisted face.

Dean came out of his seat.

Hawk shoved a specialist. “Get off. If you can’t play without cheating—”