window stirred, a dark form peered out, and the baby was immediately hushed.
Somewhere in the near distance, the dull echo of a missile launcher pounded against the surrounding mountains.
Alejo started, and realized they were near the current battle zone.
With a cool hiss, the metallic doors of the Hummer unlocked and opened. Mateen took a long drink from a two-liter bottle of luke-warm Coca-Cola. The Pashtun guards leapt out of the car, weapons gripped tightly in their rough hands.
“Settle down, settle down,” the Khan barked in Pashto, appearing amused. “There’s nothing to be afraid of right here, in this village. It’s still ours. Our commander is in constant contact with me, by sat phone.” Ishmael patted the pocket of his gray wool jacket from a posh London shop.
“You all stay here and guard the car,” Ishmael instructed his guards and driver. “Keeping a sharp eye out towards us, of course, as a precaution.” The Khan cleared his throat, spit a wad of hashish on the ground and turned towards Alejo, all smiles. “And as for you, your hour has come. Did I not tell you I had a surprise for you? Forgot to mention it, eh? Well, I have a little something I want to show you, and I think you will be very surprised. Pleasantly.”
Alejo hid his displeasure behind a passive mask. Yeah, he was surprised. What could be here, so near the battle zone, that the Khan wanted him to see? There was nothing here but run-down huts. And people who needed help.
“Come on, Alejo,” the Khan was saying, heading towards a larger, low-slung mud building that was on the close side of the courtyard. Alejo’s leather sandals sucked at the mud as he followed Ishmael. A thin plume of smoke snaked from the chimney of the building into the slate gray of the sky.
Alejo halted impatiently outside the splintered wooden door as the Khan called into the building in Pashto, A curt answer came back to him, and the Khan motioned happily for Alejo to open the door. Features impassive, Alejo pushed his way cautiously into the darkened building and found, more or less, what he had expected: a room tightly packed with mud-caked, exhausted mujahedeen, taking an early-morning snooze by the fire before heading out to fight the enemy combatants.
Most wore grimy shalwar kameezs and the traditional Pashtun hats, with a ring around the bottom, bulging like a wool muffin on the top. The men looked thin and under-fed and much too young to be here. Many had body parts wrapped up in dirt-encrusted, ratty bandages mottled with dried blood. Around one hundred pairs of brown, battle-weary eyes stared back at Alejo as his vision adjusted to the dim lighting. He felt the Khan push past him, forcing him further inside the room.
“Well, come see your surprise!”
Alejo was confused, but didn’t let it show, only cocking an eyebrow at Ishmael. He wasn’t interested in radical fighters and all their petty battles over slight differences in religion or generational blood feuds. What was he doing here?
“Asalaam alaikum!” Ishmael greeted the men enthusiastically, and they, obviously knowing who he was, made an effort to sit up straighter with respect and returned the Pashto greeting. “This is the man I told you about, the man I told your commander I would bring to you.” The Khan motioned widely towards Alejo, as pleased as a kindergartner presenting his newest coloring page to his favorite teacher. “Please greet our visitor.”
Alejo was perplexed to see grins spreading across the chapped faces of many of the men in the room. An unexplained feeling of dread crept across his chest as he watched them.
And then the men opened their mouths and spoke.
5
aquamarine
Pakistan
IF GABRIEL SHARA WERE ANY HAPPIER, he might just die.
It had happened. His dream had finally come true!
He. Was. Going to Marry. Ambrin!!!
Gabriel had never thought it would all happen so soon. But while Alejo was chatting with the mujahedeen warriors in that town with the mangy donkey, Ishmael Khan had pulled Gabriel aside and said the best words of the century:
“Gabriel my son, I’ve heard you have noticed my niece.”
It was all going to be arranged, next year when Ambrin finished nursing school. And though marrying Ambrin was about the most awesome news Gabriel could imagine, the Khan hadn’t been finished.
There was a client, a super-important client, hiring for a super-important mission. And the Khan wanted Gabriel to take the job!
“You’re the one, Gabriel Shara,” Ishmael had smiled warmly outside under the blazing