“I see it,” said Mallory. “You’re right. Hanif, can you zoom in on that?”
The picture expanded, showing faint swirls and brushstrokes in the black substance adjacent to the wound.
“It almost looks like the killer painted a guide on her stomach, then cut along the line,” said Alton. “But why?”
“How can we know why a crazy person does something?” asked Fahima.
“We only need to discern the pattern,” said Alton. “I’ve read about victims in Mexican drug wars being pretty mutilated. Could this be some kind of turf war between tribal leaders? Perhaps one sending a message to the other by killing young women this way?”
“I don’t think so,” said Hanif. “Tribal leaders have a lot of power in the north and south, but here in Kabul, the national government has pushed them out. Plus, they usually kill the men, not teenage girls. This looks like something different.”
“Okay,” said Alton. “Let’s look at the rest of the photos and try to get a better sense of the overall pattern.”
As they reviewed the photos of the fourth victim, Mallory spoke up. “Stop. This girl’s stomach isn’t as mangled as the rest. It looks like the black substance forms a pattern on her stomach.”
Hanif zoomed in again. “You’re right. It looks like a star. Let me go back to the other victims and see if there are traces of this same design.”
He pulled up the previous photos, then scrolled through those of the final victim. His face clouded. “We’re seeing the same star pattern on all of them—a star inside a circle.”
“Were there any ransom demands to the families?” asked Mallory.
“No. None,” replied Hanif. “The girls went missing and were then found dead a few weeks later.”
“That settles it, then,” said Alton. “The motive isn’t greed. We’re looking for a serial killer.”
CHAPTER 39
Ghoyee’s last conversation with Mastana had occurred three days ago, yet the teen’s alluring comments had continued to plague him.
Wouldn’t you like to have me with you all the time? He had laughed off her question at the time, but the insinuation in her voice and seductive gaze in her eyes had lit a fire that continued to burn.
Why did the girl have to tempt him so?
Yesterday, an idea had presented itself to Ghoyee’s mind: take the other girl, the one Divband had rejected in favor of Mastana. Once the idea took root, it quickly grew, crowding out all other thoughts.
And why not? Thanks to the Brotherhood, Ghoyee was well-versed in the art of kidnapping. But unlike his previous “collections,” there was no need to involve Divband in this one. The new girl wouldn’t be delivered to the Brotherhood. Rather, she would be Ghoyee’s own special prize. For the same reason, however, he couldn’t enlist Meskin’s help as he had previously. This would have to be a solo operation.
By the time dusk set in, Ghoyee had watched the girl’s house for nearly an hour. From his vantage point, he overlooked a rear corner of the brick-and-mud abode. The only movement inside occurred in the girl’s bedroom. He had seen her young, budding figure in the window, moving in the dim light. Some might say thirteen was too young, but he had no objection to her years. In fact, her innocence spurred him to action.
Ghoyee opted against using the house’s front entrance. It lay on the opposite side of the structure from the two bedrooms. If the girl heard him enter, she would have plenty of time to run, possibly even escape through a bedroom window as Mastana nearly had.
The other bedroom—the one across from the girl’s room—had been dark throughout Ghoyee’s vigil. It seemed to be the perfect entry point, a spot providing him with the element of surprise yet denying his target sufficient time to escape.
Using an old turban to construct a makeshift mask across his mouth and nose, Ghoyee crept towards the house, thankful for the cover provided by a series of brick walls abutting the property in the rear and side yards. The walls did have an open spot in the corner to allow access to a small alley, but a witness would have to stand motionless in that spot to have any line of sight to the house—and Ghoyee’s activities.
The cultist reached the unoccupied bedroom’s window and slid it open. Placing a linen cloth over the frame to cushion any potential noise, he squeezed through the opening.
Tiptoeing as quietly as possible for a man his size, Ghoyee reached the empty bedroom’s door and cracked it open. He couldn’t restrain a small grunt of surprise in seeing the door to the girl’s bedroom standing wide open and the light switched off. What bad luck! The girl had remained in her bedroom the entire time Ghoyee had watched her from the scrub brush.
The girl must have moved to another part of the house. When Meskin participated in the collections, he would enter from another door and help Ghoyee herd the target into a dead end. Without his crony, Ghoyee had to make his way into the hall and head for the front of the house, all the while hoping the child wouldn’t see him and run screaming from the front entrance before he could reach her. Thankfully, the hallway was dark enough to hide his lumbering form—at least he hoped so.
He reached the end of the hallway and peered across an open area in the front of the house into a small kitchen. There was the girl, chopping something on the counter. Perfect!
A sudden noise startled both the girl and Ghoyee. The front door swung open, and the girl’s father strode into the house.
“My darling!” said the cursed father.
Ghoyee backed away, ducking into the shadows. He could always return on Wednesday at an earlier time of day, before the father returned from work.
“Who is there?” shouted the father, staring into the moving shadows on the wall.
Terrified of being seen, Ghoyee bolted down the hallway. Reaching the end of the hall, he grabbed the doorframe to stop his momentum, then pulled himself into his entry-point bedroom. After slamming the door shut and locking it, he scrambled to the window and dove through as a furious pounding erupted from the door.
Ghoyee fell into the dirt of the backyard with a thud. He righted himself and bolted down the alley. He twisted through a maze of tightly-packed houses in the neighborhood. As he ran, he pulled the mask off his face.
He reached a wide thoroughfare and plunged into crowd streaming down the sidewalk. For the first time, he stole a glance behind him. The girl’s father hadn’t followed, probably opting to remain with his distraught daughter to console and question her.
Ghoyee cursed his luck. Of all the times for a collection to go wrong, this was arguably the worst. Perhaps he would try to collect another girl in the future, but for today, he rejoiced in having escaped from the target’s house with his identity undiscovered.
CHAPTER 40
Mastana’s heart accelerated as she heard the door down the hallway open. She felt guilty praying that, if one of the prisoners were to be taken, it would not be her.
The door to her cell creaked open, causing a chill to run down her spine. Divband stepped into the gloom.
“My Lord,” said Mastana, bowing her head.
Divband studied her for a full half-minute. “How do I know I can trust you?”
“How indeed, my Lord? I am chained to the floor. Such restraint does not afford one an opportunity to demonstrate trustworthiness.”
He frowned at her. “Yet if I give you freedom, you could betray me.”
“A man like you does not rise to power on the basis of poor choices. I trust that your decision regarding me will be wise, my Lord.”
Divband paced the narrow confines of the cell, muttering to himself. A myriad of conflicting emotions flitted across his countenance.
He stopped pacing. “We can take this in stages. I will allow you a bit of freedom. Exercise this freedom responsibly, and you will gain my trust…and a little more freedom.”
“As you wish, my Lord. I thank you.”
Divband turned on his heel and exited the cell. After pulling the door shut and locking it, he leaned his face against th
e bars in the window, obscuring most of the feeble light from the hallway. “Mastana, if you lose my trust, you will never get it back. Do you understand?”
There was no point in attempting this charade without a willingness to fully commit to the role. “Completely, my Lord. I will not fail you.”
Five minutes later, a guard entered her cell. “Divband has ordered me to remove your chain.” The man grabbed her arm and inserted a key into the shackle. With a twist, it fell free.
Mastana rubbed her wrist. The elation of this bit of freedom threatened to overwhelm her, but she maintained an icy stillness as the guard rose. If the man reported back to Divband, he should not observe so exuberant a reaction as to suggest the potential of an eventual escape attempt. “I thank you, sir.”
The guard grunted and left the cell, locking it behind him.
After waiting for the guard to leave, Mastana walked to the door and, for the first time, peered through it. The hallway looked as she imagined it, a narrow, stack-stone tunnel lit with a string of florescent lights, ending at a massive wooden door with steel plates banded across it.
She stepped back into the interior of her cell, a cacophony of thoughts battling for attention in her mind.
Divband had given her a bit a freedom. Had he ever done that before?
The weakest glimmer of hope arose in Mastana’s mind. Was she guilty of wishful thinking, or was the path to her salvation, once dark, now illuminated with a flicker of hope?
CHAPTER 41
“I don’t think we’re looking for a serial killer the way you are imagining,” said Hanif, his face a mask of worry as he surveyed the others around Kamaal’s table.
“What do you mean?” asked Alton.
Hanif rose and began to pace. “This may not be the work of one crazy person. The markings we saw on the bodies, a star within a circle. I have seen it before.”
“You know,” said Mallory, “I thought I had too, but I can’t remember where.”
“Back in college,” said Hanif, “I studied the history of my country. This symbol was used by an ancient cult, one that existed before Islam began.”
Alton rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Do you think there’s a connection between the crimes and this cult?”
“Certainly the use of this symbol makes me wonder.”
“Or it could be some lunatic that’s latched on to this symbol as a representation of his evil urges,” said Mallory.
“Yes, that is quite possible,” said Hanif.
“Plus, didn’t you said the cult was ancient?” pressed Mallory.
“Yes, but a few months ago, I heard whisperings of this cult reemerging. I did not know if this rumor was true. I hope it is not.”
“Why?”
“The Brotherhood of Stones was different from other cults. Most religions seek to connect with the benevolent forces of the universe. This cult sought a darker path. They pursued the power of the black jinnd.”
“Black jinnd?” asked Alton.
“The jinnd are spirits. As the name implies, white jinnd are good, and black jinnd are evil.”
“And this group, this Brotherhood, worshiped the evil ones?” asked David.
“That is correct. The Brotherhood believed in the blood sacrifice as an offering to Iblis, the most powerful black jinnd. In your culture, you would call this jinnd Satan.”
“That’s where I’ve seen that symbol before,” said Mallory. “There are groups of Satan worshipers in the US who use something similar.”
Hanif continued. “The Brotherhood’s sacrifices were always females, which is consistent with our recent string of crimes. If they are indeed returning and are responsible for Mastana’s abduction, we must find her soon. Otherwise, she may end up the next sacrifice.”
Mallory leaned back in her chair. “I’m surprised someone on the police force hasn’t already made the connection between the symbol and the Brotherhood of Stones.”
“Well, that cult was pretty obscure. I really liked that college class, so I studied all the cults, including the Brotherhood. But today, not many people have heard of them.”
“I’m glad you know these things,” said David. “We’d be up the creek without you.”
“I don’t see how we can know just yet whether these kidnappings are the work of a new and improved Brotherhood of Stones or only one individual,” said Alton, “but we should look into the possibility that the Brotherhood is involved. Some of us should follow up with Captain Poya tomorrow, see if he’s heard anything about this cult.”
Everyone agreed.
Alton looked at his watch. “Man, it’s nearly midnight. Why don’t we get some shuteye, and let’s plan on getting started at nine tomorrow morning.”
“I think I will go with you to the police station tomorrow,” said Hanif. “I would like to be part of the conversation.”
“Thanks, Hanif,” said Alton. “Like David said, we’d be dead in the water without you.”
Hanif departed, and with the exception of Alton, the others began to prepare makeshift beds scattered around the front of Kamaal’s house. As they did so, Nafisa’s grandmother arrived. Thanking the rescuers, she spirited the girl away, back to the relative safety of Jalalabad.
“Sweetie, don’t you think you’d better get some sleep, too?” asked Mallory, resting her arm on Alton’s shoulder as he worked on his laptop.
“I will in just a minute. I’m going to look up vendors who sell Ketamine in Kabul. Even if it’s a long shot, we should still try to track down the shop where our kidnapper has been buying his stuff.”
“Okay. Don’t take too long. You won’t be good for tomorrow without rest.” She leaned down and pressed into a lingering kiss. “Remember back our wedding night, when I said you’re my hero? This is why. Think about what you’re doing. You’re halfway around the world working yourself ragged, searching for a girl who isn’t even related to you. Not many people would do that. But I’m not surprised at all that my husband is.”
“Thanks, Honey. But I think on this mission, we’re all equally in the hero business.”
“Well, I’m going to get my hero self in bed. Don’t be long.”
“I won’t.”
As he searched the internet for Kabul’s Ketamine vendors, Alton’s mind wandered. He didn’t feel like a hero. His return to Afghanistan had been more difficult than he had anticipated. Since arriving in Kabul, an undercurrent of latent anxiety had continued to trouble his mind. Also, the pain in his leg had grown progressively worse. Yes, he had been forced to run earlier in the day, but his leg’s deterioration had started before then. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt an odd certainty that if he could just find Mastana and leave Afghanistan, his limb would return to its typical level of discomfort.
The next morning, Fahima and David left to visit the largest medical supply stores, using the list Alton had compiled the night before.
Meanwhile, Alton, Mallory, Kamaal, and Hanif went to see Captain Poya. The desk sergeant ushered them back to Poya’s office.
The captain smiled when he saw the group but took on a more grim expression when he spotted Hanif. “You helping these guys, Hanif?” asked Poya, apparently using English as a courtesy to the Americans.
“Yes, they came to me and explained their case, and I said I would help this one time.”
“I’m glad. But Hanif, you should have stayed on the force. We could use a good cop like you.”
Hanif’s expression looked pained. “We’ve discussed this before. I…can’t. Not all the time. It is too much.”
“Whatever you say,” grumbled Poya. “Now, tell me why you are here today. It’s about the kidnapping case, right?”
“Yes,” replied Alton, hoping to defuse the tension between the officer and his former lieutenant. “We have a few specific questions we’re hoping you can help us with.”
“Tell me your questions.”
“We were wondering if you’ve heard of any recent crimes associated with a cult called the Broth
erhood of Stones.”
Poya rubbed his chin in thought. “I don’t think so. Why?”
“We think they may have been involved in multiple kidnappings, similar to the one Mr. Blackwell is investigating,” said Hanif. He provided a summary of the information they had acquired the previous day.
“You know a lot about the police reports,” said Poya. “How did you find this out?”
“I…uh…asked some of my former colleagues on the force.”
Poya frowned. “You know you’re not supposed to do that. If you want police information, you have to be a policeman or submit an official request.” His expression softened. “We could use you, Hanif. Come back, and you can get this kind of information anytime you want it.”
“Sorry, I can’t. But you’ll still let us know if you get any information about the Brotherhood, right?”
“Sure. In fact, let me ask my sergeant.” He picked up his phone. “Sergeant Majid, can you come into my office for a minute?”
A moment later, a beefy man entered.
“Sergeant Majid, have you heard of a criminal organization called the Brotherhood of Stones?”
Majid looked from face to face with an uneasy expression. “No, I have not heard of such a group. Why?”
“Hanif and his friends think this Brotherhood group may be involved in some kidnappings. If you hear of anything pertaining to that group, can you let me know?”
“Of course, sir.”
“Thank you, Sergeant. That will be all.”
Majid exited the room, and Poya turned back to the others. “I will let you know if I hear anything.” He nodded and turned to his computer monitor.
That seemed to be the cue for them to leave.
“Thank you, Captain Poya,” said Alton as they slipped out the office door.
Mallory leaned over to Alton. “Holy crap! Did you see the size of that sergeant?”
The Devil's Due (The Blackwell Files Book 5) Page 13
