without the flowers.” Layla was embarrassed at her comments now, because he was totally correct. She had no right to counsel him on his spending.
“Perhaps you could have. But I could not. I wanted this celebratory dinner to be everything that it currently is. Not to impress you, but to congratulate Boris on his dogged pursuit.”
Boris delivered a mock bow while on his crutches and nearly fell over. Lourds had to steady him with a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Thomas, and thank you even more for this fine repast. I shall probably not eat this well again until I see you next time.”
Lourds grinned and patted Boris on the stomach. “I know. You’ve been practically wasting away. I noticed that when we were squeezed together in that passageway.”
“Hello, the tent.”
Layla turned at the man’s voice.
Lourds went to the tent flaps and opened them. “Major Dolgov. Please. Come in.” Lourds waved the man inside.
Dmitry Dolgov appeared a little uncertain, but he kicked his boots off and stepped into the tent. He smoothed his shirt, which was clean but was one meant for work rather than a feast. He gave a small smile. “I appear to be somewhat underdressed for the event.”
“Not at all. Boris and I are glad to have you and twice as glad that you’re a crack shot and a brave soul.”
Dmitry smiled and bowed his head. “As needs must.”
Boris shifted on his crutches. “Perhaps we could sit. Standing isn’t doing much good for my leg, I’m afraid.”
Layla pulled out a chair for the Russian professor, then was pleasantly surprised to find Lourds doing the same for her at the end of the table. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
Instead of sitting beside her as Layla had thought he would, Lourds sat at the other end of the table. Layla didn’t know how she felt about that, and she was even more surprised to find that she felt anything at all.
Boris picked up a bottle of wine and offered it to Layla. She refused, and he offered her bottled water instead, which she took. While at school in the West, she occasionally drank alcohol and did not feel as though she were offending God. But while she was in Afghanistan, she held to the edicts of her culture and religion as closely as she was able. Being unchaperoned with three men for dinner was already excessive.
Lourds took wine as well, but Boris offered a bottle of vodka to Dmitry. “A bottle of the best vodka our sources told me could be had in Herat, Major.”
“Danka. But please call me Dmitry. That way, when I am drunk, you will remind me who I am.” Dmitry grinned.
After pouring himself some vodka, Boris held up his glass. “A toast, my companions. To this fine dinner, to Thomas for providing the meal, to Dmitry for his marksmanship, and to Layla, the best director I have ever had.”
They toasted, and then the eating began.
***
As he ate, Lourds found himself mesmerized by Layla’s dark gaze. She was enchanting, witty, and effusive once she had relaxed, and she matched Boris and Lourds story for story when it came to swapping tales—and even lies, which Boris told with the absolute best authority.
“In your exploration of the cave where the passageway dropped you, you have found no indication of the promised treasure?” Layla picked at the kofta, the meatball made of ground lamb and spices and onions. The dish was a staple of many Afghanistan restaurants and family tables.
Lourds had enjoyed kofta on several occasions and enjoyed it now. Boris had been diligent in keeping the meal properly heated. He drank more wine and picked up a khameerbob, a pasta dumpling filled with onions and ground beef. Biting into it, he savored the rush of flavors and spices from the yogurt topping filled with sour cream and garlic. The dried mint it was topped with mixed in as well.
“Well, that’s a rather humorous story.” Boris looked more embarrassed than amused. “Have you heard of those Internet scams that start something like, ‘I am a Nigerian ex-patriot who was a banker in my country and left a large sum of money in the Bank of Nigeria’?”
“Of course. But that is a con game.”
“Yes. Only one not so deadly as the one I apparently found.”
Layla smiled uncertainly. “You’re saying there was never a treasure.”
“I’m afraid so. Think of all those poor, greedy merchants lured off the trail as they went to and from Herat. Here they were, sold a bill of