“Fey and Rasmussen,” Raz said.
“Dusty,” he chuckled.
“Leena’s legs are in a cave-in!” Margaret screamed.
“My arm’s probably broken,” Colin said.
“Margaret, it’s going to have to be you,” Alex said. “Can you get her out?”
“The tunnel fell in,” Margaret said. “The rest of the team is behind her.”
“That’s okay,” Alex said.
“We are elite soldiers,” Joseph said. “We can handle this.”
Alex put her hand on Sergeant Dusty’s leg. He turned around to look at her, and his headlamp shone in her face. She pushed him forward and nodded. He continued on through the tunnel.
“Colin, can you bind your arm?” Alex asked.
“Done,” Colin said. “Margaret and Leena are right behind me.”
“Is she responsive?” Alex asked.
“Margaret is . . .” Colin started.
“I’m here,” Leena said.
“Yea!” Alex cheered. Joseph and Raz joined her.
“She thinks she’s reinjured her knee,” Colin said. “She can feel her toes. She says that Troy was right behind her. He’s tickling her calves.”
“That’s wonderful news,” Alex said. “Do we know anything about the rest of the team?”
“Wait,” Colin said. “She says Troy’s tapping out Morse code on her legs.”
“She says they’re alive,” Margaret yelled. “James is injured but not badly. And . . .”
“Shit,” Colin said.
“What?” Alex asked.
“There was a cave-in,” Margaret said. “They’ve captured Zack and Cliff.”
“Shit,” Alex said.
She looked ahead to see Sergeant Dusty’s headlamp coming back in her direction. At the same time, she heard the sound of shovels digging overhead. She directed Sergeant Dusty to stop and pointed up. He looked up and nodded. He retreated further down the tunnel.
“What do you want to do?” Joseph asked.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” Alex said. “We need to . . .”
“ . . .trust that some of the goodwill we’ve tried to create will return in the face of strangers,” Joseph and Alex repeated in unison what Charlie, their old CO, used to say.
Alex dropped her head into her hands to rest for a moment. Raz reached up and held her hand.
“Have they killed Zack and Cliff?” Alex asked.
She waited while Colin relayed the message to Margaret, and Leena used her feet to communicate to Troy. Every moment, the shovels came closer and closer to her. Alex bit her lip to keep from screaming her impatience.
“She says they have not killed Zack or Cliff,” Margaret said. “Troy’s just been taken. They are in the tunnel at Leena’s feet.”
“Matt and MJ seem to be hidden,” Colin said.
“I sent Dusty on,” Alex said.
“So we have backup,” Joseph said.
Alex felt the fresh air before she saw the moon. Hands grabbed at her and pulled her from the tunnel. They pulled her onto her feet and then screamed for her to kneel down. She saw only the bottom edge of the men’s cotton kameez. Glancing up, she noted their long beards. A tip of a machine gun came into her view.
“Head down!” the man yelled in Arabic.
Alex reached out her arm and hooked it with Raz’s. She felt him reach Joseph. She knew that Joseph would follow suit. Soon, they would be hooked together for support, connection, and communication. About ten minutes after she’d hooked elbows with Raz, she felt him inform her that they’d rescued Leena, that James had a head wound, and that they still had not found Matthew or MJ.
She felt a hand on her head. A young girl, maybe fourteen, was arranging her scarf so it covered her head. The girl went to Margaret and Leena to do the same thing.
“Who are you?” a man yelled in Arabic.
She heard someone get kicked. Their linked arms bent with the blow.
“Fey Team, sir,” Colin coughed.
He was the tallest and heaviest of them, so it made some sense that they would go for him.
“Where is the fairy?” the man asked in Arabic.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man stick the machine gun in Colin’s face. When he didn’t respond, the man kicked him again. Colin grunted, and their line of elbows absorbed some of the blow.
“Where is the fairy?” the man screamed.
To prove his point, he fired the machine gun into the air. He placed the muzzle against Colin’s shoulder. She knew he would blow out Colin’s shoulder with ease. A non-life threatening injury, Colin would survive. However, he’d keep doing this until he got what he wanted. She looked up, as if to find inspiration from the stars, and saw the glimmer of something enormous soaring with ease above them. Jesse appeared beside her, ready to support her in whatever she did.
She stood up and immediately felt dizzy. She realized that her actions were contrary to standard training. She knew also that standing up just might get her killed.
But it was what Captain Charles O’Brien would do. If it was good enough for Charlie, it was certainly good enough for her. She bit her lip to keep from throwing up.
“I’m the jinniyah,” Alex said in English using the Arabic word for fairy.
Chapter Thirty-eight
“No!” Colin yelled. He lunged toward her but was held in place by the man’s foot.
Raz tried to hold her in place.
“How can I be of service, sir?”
Alex bowed her head to keep the vertigo at bay. A man walked to her and looked her over. She could smell the sweat and dirt on him. But she didn’t smell desperation or fear. She took that as a good sign. He tilted her head up.
“You are wearing the wrong color of scarf,” he said.
“We traded,” Alex said.
The man ripped the headlamp off Margaret and went down the line to look at the each of their scarves.
“I do not see the bright-blue one,” the man said. “I see the dark-blue one.”
He grabbed Zack’s arm and pulled him to his feet.
“This creature is too scrawny to be her football-player partner,” the man said.
He threw Zack to the ground. Cliff and Leena grabbed him. He nodded that he was all right and returned to his knees. They linked arms again.
“We traded scarves, sir,” Alex said.
The man turned around to look at her.
“There is a bounty on your head,” he said.
“No, there isn’t,” Alex said.
A man near her punched her across the face for her insolence. She fell to all fours and gasped with the force on her right shoulder. She saw Raz’s eyes. His eyes seemed to smile at her. She nodded and got to her feet. She kept her head down.
“Okay, there is not a bounty on your head,” the man said. “I could make one for trying to infiltrate our camp.”
Alex didn’t reply. He nudged her with the tip of the machine gun, which she saw now was an AK-47. She looked up at the leader.
“You were trying to infiltrate our camp?” the man asked.
“The Fey Team never hides,” Alex said. “We never sneak in anywhere. Never have, never will.”
The man gave her a long look. He nodded to the man near her, and the man punched her again. She fell but remembered to catch herself with her left hand. She got up, adjusted her scarf, and returned to looking down.
“Why do you favor that arm?” the man asked.
“I was stabbed last year,” Alex said.
He nodded to the man near her. The man pawed through her scarf and balaclava to unzip her jumpsuit. He pulled the fabric off to reveal the healing scar. The leader nodded, and the man near her removed his hands. She zipped herself up.
“Who is Wafa?” the man asked.
“There are many great Wafas in the history of Afghanistan. Wafa Begum is the name of my favorite of the many heroines in Afghanistan,” Alex said. “She was the Pashtun wife of Shah Shuja ul-Mulk and
saved Afghanistan many times with her good sense. It is also a good, solid Afghan name for a daughter.”
Any direct mention of Alex’s daughter would have met with immediate reprisal. Daughters were rarely acknowledged to strangers and never mentioned by name. The men around her shifted, and the mood lightened. The men looked at their leader.
“And Amir?” the leader asked before walking away from her.
“As with Wafa, there are many, many Amirs,” Alex said. “I named my son after Amir Kror Suri, who was a Pashtun poet, fighter, and ruler.”
“I knew it,” the leader turned around to look at her. “My brother thought it was for Amir Abdulla Khan Niazi.”
“No, sir,” Alex said. “I would never name a native son of Afghanistan after a warrior and governor in Pakistan.”
“He is Pashtun,” the leader said.
“Amir is a son of the new Afghanistan,” Alex said. “My hope is he will have the strength of Kror and the mind of a poet. It’s my belief he will need both.”
“That he will,” the leader nodded. “Why do they not bear their father’s name, Kohzad?”
“Legal reasons having to do with the adoption,” Alex said. “In the US, children are not named as they are in Afghanistan.”
“But he will know of his father?” the leader asked.
“And his mother, his grandparents as well,” Alex said. “When they are old enough, we will journey to Afghanistan so they can know their country. In the meantime, my twins are surrounded by those who love them.”
“Even in the US?” the leader asked. “With their family dead?”
“Ask him,” Alex nodded toward Raz.
He stood up.
“Who are you?” the leader asked.
“Arthur J. Rasmussen, US Department of Homeland Security, sir” he said. “I am the Fey’s football-player partner and a Godparent to the children. They have many people who love them. They are . . . wonderful. Would you like to see photos?”
The leader looked at Raz and laughed. He pointed to one of the men, and the man took the cellphone Raz offered. The man pushed Raz back into place. He dropped to his knees and hooked elbows while they flipped through the photos.
“What are you doing out here?” the leader asked.
“We got caught in a secret prison slated for destruction,” Alex said. “We kept our mission a secret to be able to interview the target.”
“An Afghan?” the man asked.
“An American,” Alex said.
“Torture?”
“I’ve never found it very effective,” Alex said.
“I’ve heard that,” the leader said. “Why were you in the tunnel?”
“We did not inform command of our mission and, in turn, were not informed that the site was slated for destruction,” Alex said.
The leader nodded to Alex. He looked at her for a long moment and then began pacing away from her. Alex saw Matthew and MJ peek out of the tunnel to see if they should intervene. She closed her eyes twice to signal no.
She waited and thought . . . about . . . Máire and Joey . . .and John . . . and Max . . . and the many days and nights she’d spent in this mountainous country. She smiled.
“Why do you smile?” the leader asked her.
She was so surprised that she jumped. He repeated the question.
“I was thinking of Afghanistan, sir,” Alex said. “I grew up in a mountainous region of the United States. Afghanistan is beautiful. When I feel like she cannot surprise me, I turn the corner and see something so stunning that it takes my breath away.”
The man scowled, and Alex gestured to the bright moon on the early spring grass. He scowled.
“I feel fortunate to have been able to see her,” Alex said.
He snorted a kind of laugh.
“My cousin’s cousin says that you are letting people live in the valley owned by your son,” the leader said.
“That’s correct,” Alex said. “We’re investing in returning the valley to farms and homes. People are allowed to move there to farm the land. We are supplying the seed, pomegranate root stock for orchards, rebuilding homes, facilities, and the infrastructure many homes require. But only for those who do not grow poppies — no opium.”
“That’s all?” the leader asked.
“Yes,” Alex said.
“What happens when Amir wants his land back?” the leader asked.
“Amir is six months old,” Alex said. “Our hope is that he and his sibling will grow up in the valley and know those who live in peace there. It is what their parents wanted for them.”
“But he holds ownership to the land,” the leader said.
“The tribe holds the land. Amir, his sibling, their aunt, uh . . .” Alex remembered just in time not to mention Felicia by name, “ . . .Emal’s widow and her charges — they own the land.”
The leader nodded.
“We are on our way there,” the leader said. “We are hoping to get land to work and raise our families.”
“Then you should go,” Alex said. “My guess is that there will be a lot of people wanting to farm the valley. The children are babies. You could live fifteen years or more before Amir or his sibling may be ready to consider changes in the valley. It’s a great opportunity for a quiet life.”
“If I bring you, it might help,” the leader said. “Negotiate land for your freedom.”
“If you take us, you’re likely to get killed,” Alex said. “Emal’s widow does not play nice.”
“She is Pashtun woman,” the leader nodded.
“Leave us here,” Alex said. “We will get back to Kabul. In exchange for our freedom, I will give you my scarf and a note for Emal’s widow. She will know my scarf — and my handwriting — and contact me.”
“I could get your scarf and note and kill you.”
“Emal’s widow will not do anything if she cannot contact me,” Alex said. “She is my children’s aunt. She is my family, and I am hers.”
The leader nodded, and Alex held her breath. Jesse followed the man back and forth as he paced. He stopped and faced Alex.
“There is a boy in the camp,” the leader said. “He works with the doctor and his wife.”
“Sher and his wife,” Alex said, making sure not to mention Khudija’s name. “They work with the Doctors Roy.”
“They say he is fairy born,” the leader said.
“He is,” Alex said.
“The woman helped my wife when she was with child and in trouble,” the leader said. “We had a healthy baby boy, but we can have no more children for a while.”
Alex held her breath. The men around her shifted and the tension rose.
“Why is that?” the leader asked.
“Girls often don’t survived childbirth or end up with injuries which make them unable to have children,” Alex said.
“She barely lived,” the man said.
The leader walked away from Alex.
“Nineteen,” the man said. The men around him mumbled around Alex. “And when she’s nineteen?”
“She can have as many children as you desire,” Alex said.
“That’s what the doctor said,” the man nodded. “But, how will we have sons to work the fields?”
The men nodded in agreement. Every eye focused on Alex. She felt more than saw her team shift, ready to defend her, and themselves, from attack.
“You will work on each other’s fields, harvest each other’s crops,” Alex said. “And when your children are grown, they will work the land after school. This is how it’s always been among the Pashtun. It’s how it shall be in the valley.”
The leader gave her a long look. She knew that this was the moment he would either decide to let them go or kill them.
“Congratulations on the birth of your son,” Alex said. “And the health of your wife.”
The leader nodded.
“Sher says that you are fair,” the leader said.
“If you let us go, I will be so grateful that I will ov
erlook anything that’s happened here,” Alex said.
The man nodded. He made a gesture with his hand. The small group of men gathered their belongings and moved on. Alex signaled to Matthew. She took her scarf from him and wrote a quick note with the yellow pencil in her pocket.
“Go,” she said. She held out the package to Troy. He grabbed the package and a headlamp before heading out into the dark.
MJ jumped out of the tunnel and began to assess injuries. Leena was able to walk with help, and Colin’s arm was broken. Even though James said he was all right, his head wound was serious. They were just talking about how to get to Kabul when a Chinook flew overhead. Troy arrived from his mission.
“You didn’t really expect me to walk, did you?” Zack asked as the Chinook landed.
A team of medics hopped out to help. They were on their way back to Bagram Air Base. While James, Leena, and Colin went to the hospital, Sergeant Dusty found them a place to bunk. They split up into partners, with Joseph partnering with Sergeant Dusty. Alex was lying on the bed when Raz came in from reviewing the video feed of the Boy Scout’s last moments.
“Any word on what happened to the Sergeant that let us in?” Alex asked.
“He’s . . .” Raz started.
“Dead,” they said together.
“Rifle shot when he was exiting the helicopter we took to the black site,” Raz said.
“Of course he is.” Alex said. “Seems like they’ve outsmarted us on every op.”
“Hey, at least you didn’t have to hear him say, ‘The joke’s on you,’” Raz said.
“But he said it?”
“Just before the site blew,” Raz said. “In Russian, no less.”
“Eniac, Boy Scout, Zutterberg, . . .”
“Joiner,” Raz said. “Ruiz.”
“Hector,” Alex nodded. “Eleazar. Everyone we thought might be behind this is dead. Everyone we thought might know who is behind this is dead.”
“It’s a miracle we’re not dead,” Raz said.
“How long does that luck hold out?” Alex asked.
“We have fairy luck,” Raz said.
“I just wish I knew . . .”
“Knew what?”
“Who’s doing this?” Alex asked. “Who did the Boy Scout work for? Who would he so easily trade his life for? Who killed the MI-6 agent, whatever his name was? Someone was there, right there, and . . .”
Finding North Page 37
